Vader's Shadow
by Starith
Summary: Luke comes across a certain Imperial inspector who claims his father is alive... and claims to be Darth Vader's adjutant. Meanwhile, Vader is pitted in a rivalry for his position in the Empire — but driven by his own secret ambitions, it's only a matter of time until his path crosses with young Skywalker... (AU of the Darth Vader comics)
1. Chapter 1

This AU story takes place a couple months after ANH, right after the canon comic 'Vader Down'. And while this story is based on the Vader comics, you don't need to have read them to be able to follow what's going on (at least, I tried to make it accessible for people who haven't read them... )

Disclaimer for some PG-13 level violence and themes. And of course, what's not mine isn't mine (Star Wars, the Darth Vader comics, any characters/scenes/dialogue I use from them, etc...) This is just fan-made for fun.

Hope you enjoy it! :)

 _—_

* * *

—

"I'm ready," said Luke. "Going into hyperspace in three... two..."

He was just about to activate the hyperdrive of his X-Wing, awaiting the inescapable view of darkness phasing into traps of light. He exhaled, tightening his grip and tensing in his seat.

Over the comm, however, a deep voice suddenly crackled through: "Don't even _think_ about it, kid."

Luke lifted his gloved hands off the controls, startled.

"Risking your life, and for _what?_ An oversized glowrod with a laser setting... And just when I thought you couldn't get more off-the-wall."

Luke closed his eyes and sighed in disbelief. So much for his plan to leave without anyone noticing...

"And guess what?" the voice continued dryly. "The _Falcon's_ anchored on a gravity lock getting repaired, so I can't go and save your sorry hide for the umpteenth time. Swell timing, huh?"

Han, back at the Rebel spaceport not far from Luke's floating starfighter, was no doubt frowning at him.

"Now you listen: I don't care _how_ mystical and magical that Jedi stuff is, it's not worth dyin' over. You hear me, Luke? You _better_ hear me—"

From his stationary canopy in the X-Wing, Artoo vocalized something _._ The droid's translated words appeared on the computer screen, and Luke held back a laugh. "Yeah, Artoo... I can almost see the lines on his forehead, too."

"Luke," Han went on, in that _I-know-better-than-you_ voice. "This is crazy. _You're crazy."_

Luke half-grinned. "I think I'd be worried if you _didn't_ think so, Han."

The other man sounded like he was about to say something more heated, but another voice took over.

"Luke — I'll tell you this only once: _return to the port_." Leia's tone was softer, but as usual it left no room for argument. "You're a lieutenant of the Rebel Alliance. You can't just sneak off without permission to go on your _own_ mission just because it's personal for you. That's not how we do things in the Alliance."

Luke's hands lifted from the controls slightly, then tightened, then loosened again.

"...I'm sorry, Leia," he said, and he was. He wished he'd just kept his idea to go on this mission for himself, _to_ himself. He had told them both that he wanted to go. They hadn't talked him out of it then, and they wouldn't now.

Resisting the temptation to close the comms right then and there, he added, "But I'm _not_ leaving my lightsaber on that rock. I'm not."

Luke swallowed, remembering the moment of shock hours ago, when he'd realized that silvery hilt that always hung on his belt — his lightsaber, the Jedi weapon that Ben had entrusted to him, his father's heirloom... he, Luke, had _lost_ it.

And there was only one explanation: before they had all retreated from their previous battle, he had been captured by Imperial troopers. He'd boarded their shuttle, having been knocked out and only half-aware of what was going on. There had been so much chaos that day, starting with the aerial onslaughts — and the presence of Darth Vader...

But the shuttle must have either been damaged or a substandard vessel, as it had suddenly broken down not far above the terrain. Miraculously, he'd survived the crash and escaped, apparently as the only survivor. In the midst of that and their swift takeoff from the dusty planet afterwards, Luke hadn't thought to check himself, like any sensible Rebel fighter would. To make sure the guards hadn't unarmed him when he was unconscious...

Turns out, they had.

"Whatever chance that it's still there, I'll take it," he declared over the comm, his thoughts charging him. "It's all I have left, Leia. And it's my responsibility to get it back."

"Luke, this is _ridiculous_. I would expect this type of loner selfishness from Han..." The authority in Leia's voice was now dropping to something worse: disappointment. "...but not from you, Luke."

At this, Luke felt an inevitable wave of shame. Leia was adept at brutal honesty. He could only imagine the look on Han's face right now.

"Luke... I know that lightsaber means a lot to you," she went on patiently. "But Vrogas Vas will be under Imperial surveillance. It's the location of a former Rebel base. You _can't_ risk—"

"It's _my_ risk, Leia—"

Han's voice came through again. "Look, kid, you can't just go poking around in battle remains like it's a junkyard. That's just—"

A series of spirited growls interrupted him.

"What... what dy'a mean ' _he's had worse odds'?_ Why you stupid, hairy heap of —"

Leia cut in, "Luke, _please_. The Alliance needs you. You were there... you saw what happened over Vrogas Vas. We can't afford to lose a pilot like you, _especially_ after—"

"Well, if _that_ doesn't tug at his heartstrings." Han couldn't have sounded more incredulous. "Yeah, Luke, our friend who's walking straight into the enemy—come back, okay? We don't have enough _pilots_."

There was silence, and Luke was more than thankful to be as far away as he was. He also felt an echo of sadness, thinking of all the Rebels who had been mercilessly shot down over Vrogas Vas... And that had been _before_ the Imperials knew of their base...

Then Leia's voice came back, soft and level as ever. "Luke. If you're going to go through with this..." He heard her sigh, something she rarely did. "...You understand that if something happens... we can't send help. We can't come after you. We've suffered too much on Vrogas Vas already. We can't..."

Her words trailed away, followed by a dull quietness. In his cockpit with nothing but the perpetual blackness of space before him, Luke now suddenly felt very alone.

The low whirring of the X-Wing engines continued.

 _Alone it is then,_ he thought, his hands steady on the control sticks. He couldn't back out now. After all, he _had_ been up against worse odds. He wasn't helpless. He still had his blaster, his droid, his ship... And greatest of all, the Force.

"Look... I understand. It's okay," he said, genuinely trying to assure her, Han, all of them. "Don't worry. I'll be back. I _promise_ I'll be back."

With that, he pushed at the controls and vanished from their scopes as he was swept into hyperspace.

—

* * *

—

The Dark Lord walked through the halls of the Imperial Palace, an armored shadow that drifted from one room to the next, past the walkways, up one turbolift and off another. The guards standing watch surveyed Vader in silence, noting the silver container that hovered at his side.

He reached the lift that led to the Emperor's quarters and hurried in, eager to get this meeting over with. He was wasting enough time coming here, but he had to see the Emperor face-to-face for this matter.

As he rode the lift, he tried to gather the swell of frustration he still felt from his recent mission, to focus it into a black haze of anger, always present as his master expected. But as he glanced at the box beside him, the outrage and disappointment only resurfaced, burrowing into his mind.

He had just returned from Vrogas Vas, and his whole mission, his whole purpose there, had been foiled. Even Vader's accomplice had been lost, taken in by the Rebels, carrying information that could ruin his hidden plans — a problem he had to rectify. He had faced battle after battle on Vrogas Vas, by air and on land, confronted numerous Rebels...

But not the one that actually mattered. And the reason only made the whole ordeal all the more infuriating.

Commander Karbin, a four-armed Mon Calamarian cyborg — a living definition of _abomination —_ had prevented him. His mission had been the same as Vader's: to capture the Rebel who had destroyed the Death Star _._ Karbin had fought Vader, delaying him while his men had captured the boy. Vader had managed to use the Force to bring down the shuttle that had carried him, allowing the boy to flee with the rest of his Rebel companions. It was the only morsel of success to come from the whole venture.

So his son was still out of his reach... but also out of reach of those who could prove troublesome, as Karbin had.

The Mon Calamarian had been modified by a scientist named Cylo, an acquaintance of the Emperor, and there were others like him. Their 'enhancements', he'd proposed, made them _superior_ to Vader. They were _replacements_ , he'd said, especially in the wake of Vader's recent failures... Apparently, this idea was taken seriously by his master.

It enraged him. To blame him for the destruction of the Death Star was one thing — he _had_ made a serious error in letting the Rebels escape, and had failed to stop the attack on the reactor core. He had admitted this and accepted the responsibility. But putting him under the command of Tagge — whose promotion had only further shown what a self-applauding swine he was, assigning Vader prying adjutants meant to 'assist' him — and the Emperor pitting him against these cybernetic creatures who thought themselves greater than the Force itself... It was more than insulting and sacrilegious. It was an utter _waste._

The turbolift stopped and Vader walked off. He made his way to a large door where two red-garbed sentries stood. Seeing the Dark Lord, they stood aside and allowed him access. He paced into the well-lit room with the container, letting the sharp intake of his breath announce his presence.

"Ah, Lord Vader."

The Emperor sat at a table, hands folded, surrounded by two similar red-robed guards.

"You bring me tribute? A present?" he said, his pale face serene. "How considerate."

Behind his chair, the Coruscant afternoon could be seen through the large window, which was fashioned into an Imperial insignia. Its shape cast web-like shadows on the floor and walls.

Vader stopped just a few feet away from the steps that led to the Emperor. "You have been seeking Commander Karbin," he said, and motioned to the container. The lid of the vessel unlocked with the Force, and out fell a Mon Calamarian head. It was attached to half of a battered, metallic torso that had clearly been cut in two. The flesh was an off-white orange, the protruding eyes wide open. Vader pushed half of the lifeless body with his boot, turning it over, letting his master better observe it.

"I found him," said Vader. His gaze was locked on the old man, waiting for his reaction.

The Emperor sat silent, yellow eyes unblinking as he looked at the sight with a frown.

"Hmm..." he murmured. "Are these _lightsaber_ wounds, Vader?"

"You wish me to prove myself, Master." Vader's cynical tone transferred through his mask, sharp and even. "Give me a fight worthy of my time."

The Emperor rose from his chair. He walked to the massive window, slightly hunching, black sleeves touching the floor. "You are in luck. I have a certain... problem. Despite our _warning,_ the ore-barons of Shu-Torun are rebelling."

Vader hadn't expected this. He recalled his visit to Shu-Torun: its royal family had shown resistance to the Empire, and the king had tried to assassinate him, using his youngest daughter as a means to do. She had led Vader into a trap that was meant to kill both of them; in the end Vader had had the conspiring family killed, save for the youngest daughter, who was left as queen, compliant to serve the Empire. Evidently, their fates had not left enough of an impact on the planet.

"I require a full military intervention," the Emperor said, now heading back to his chair. "You will bring the Empire's assistance to Queen Trios. This must be achieved _swiftly._ Shu-Torun is a fountain of rare metals and minerals. The Empire's greatest martial achievements rely upon it. The Empire cannot strike against its foes without their riches."

Not his choice mission, but it was an important one, and an improvement from performing Tagge's menial tasks and dealing with abominations.

"It will be done," he affirmed, and he turned away, his black cape brushing over the Mon Calamarian corpse as he went.

"Oh..." He heard the Emperor let out a drawling sigh. "There is _one_ other matter."

Vader stopped and listened, making no movement.

"At Grand General Tagge's insistence," the Emperor continued, "Doctor Cylo will join you in the task."

Vader looked back at his master. The white face was draped in the black hood, smiling.

"Why?" he rumbled.

"There is a reason. You are student and I am master. I will explain _all_ when you return from this task."

At that, Vader turned away without another word, reining in his displeasure. Before he reached the exit he heard the Emperor add in a soft croak: "Show your merit, Vader. I rely on you more than you can understand."

Vader passed through the door and left.

So, finding his son would be put on hold once again... but the sooner he proved himself, the sooner he would be free of these distractions, elevated in power, with more resources at his disposal to find him. And insuring Shu-Torun's aide would be a significant victory for the Empire — as well as a possible opportunity for him to dispose of more "rivals"...

One abomination down. Four to go.

—

* * *

—

"Putting up the shields, Artoo," Luke said, baring his teeth as an uneasiness built up in his stomach.

As they fell out of hyperspace, readings picked up two small objects, far enough to be unidentifiable on the computer, but he was sure they were Imperial satellites. From the distance he could also make out an Imperial cargo ship, large and arrow-shaped, lingering above Vrogas Vas. Likely where the Imperials were storing anything they deemed retrievable, both from the battlefield and the Rebel base.

Luke let out a breath, his visor clouding slightly as he did so. Transport ships like this didn't usually have advanced weaponry or tracking, but still...

Settling to take control of the X-Wing's laser cannons, he prepared to approach the planet. To defend himself, speed his way through — dubious a plan as that was — but then he paused.

Something had caught his eye. Several klicks away was a string of glowing points, leaving behind blue tails as they were darting towards Vrogas Vas.

 _A comet storm?_ Luke guessed. He remembered that Vrogas Vas had gaseous emissions on its surface regularly; perhaps these storms were the reason. He thought for a moment. If he could reach it, find a place within it, keep up with it... he could not only live, but use the storm to his advantage. Surely nothing could detect or shoot down a starfighter that was shielded by such a torrent. But to fly in the middle of a deadly space storm... the risk would be...

Artoo made a series of chirps and bleeps.

"No," Luke responded, his voice low. He then pulled back on the control sticks, reversing the ship. "Let's move around them, Artoo. Keep our distance. We have to stay undetected before we can get to that comet storm."

Artoo made a questioning whistle as Luke maneuvered his way slowly, but surely. The storm was moving at a steady pace, and he managed to fly around the view of the Imperial ship. No lasers firing his way... so far, so good. He looked at the state of the blazing display on his screen, radiated in waves.

Then he paused, and eyed the angle of the descending trail. He made his way forward, and the X-Wing turned sideways. Luke closed his eyes. He dove toward the storm at top speed.

The light was blinding even through his visor, but he kept to his maneuver, determined to let nothing but instinct guide him, remembering Ben's words... He felt the storm, the intensity, astronomic and entrapping...

Something seemed to open within him, sharpening his mind, guiding him... Yes. He knew that power...

Compelled, he flew further forward and downward. He shut out the sounds of the ship sensors going haywire, the spastic bleating from Artoo, the unstable impact surrounding and gripping the X-Wing... gripping, but not crushing. He found a certain calmness in himself.

He realized he was within the storm now. Part of it, as he'd meant to be. A certain awareness was running through him, telling him to scroll away here, slow down here, avoid this spot. It wasn't a flawless, smooth procedure; the ship took hits and bumps and he jumped at them.

The danger was now wavering his concentration. Artoo made several high-pitched curses, while Luke tried to fly the best he could, zigzagging and twirling. All the while they were descending toward Vrogas Vas.

Through the downpour of light, Luke could view the earthy surface of the planet below. He smiled as it became more and more clear.

Within moments, he had reached the atmosphere. Luke waited, searching for an opening through the storm's blazing clutter and when one came, he dodged through it, leaving the storm behind. He heard the violent crashes upon land, saw the rubble splitting away in the sky.

Luke blew out in relief.

"Thank the Force," he whispered, and continued flying, edging closer to the dark, mountainous terrain. The rough ground, yellow in the day, was now covered in darkness. He realized he wasn't far from the Rebel battle site...

He soon noticed the Imperial presence; it was hard to miss. Huge white containment ships were spread for miles, alight in the dark fields. Luke immediately stopped his ship, his upper body propelled forward in his seat, and, taking a breath, he descended to land. He worried for a moment that he may have already been seen. As good as his X-Wing was, it wasn't built for stealth, and the hot-blue flare of the engines couldn't be concealed.

Luke lifted the hatch and removed his helmet. It was nearly black outside. He sat up and took out a pair of goggles from a compartment and put them on. Turning on night vision, he opened the storage space and took out his supplies, attaching them to his belt while Artoo departed from the ship. The droid casually wheeled off the ship's wing and landed with a thud.

 _"Quiet,_ Artoo," Luke hissed, tucking his gun in its holster. He stepped out. "And disable your lights."

After settling the little droid upright, Luke led him forward. He viewed the area, zooming in and out. The region ahead was littered with scorched debris and indistinguishable heaps, and Luke shuddered, thinking of what they were. Unavoidable memories flashed in his mind: static screams, orange bursts in the air...

Ahead, droids with head-lights were fluttering around, and stormtroopers were standing near a group of containers.

"Artoo... can you pick up anything? Any sign of an Imperial shuttle?" he asked.

The droid made a quiet beep and began scanning.

All was silent as they walked, viewing everything they could in the darkness. Jagged rocks and boulders, cracked formations in the ground... Vrogas Vas was as empty as he remembered. They walked on, the green screen of the goggles picking up nothing that looked like an Imperial shuttle.

All of a sudden, Luke stopped. He looked away in another direction, feeling compelled to go there as if he'd been called... Then he made a step, then another, and then darted off. The path he headed to had a lit area; it was being patrolled, but he continued. He came to a halt when he spotted a series of crumbled pillars, stairs, and statues.

The remains of the Jedi temple.

It had been the very reason he first came to this once-obscure world, seeking Jedi history and knowledge of the Force. And the remoteness of Vrogas Vas had been why he told the Alliance about it, thinking it would make a good location for a Rebel base. Now standing near this place again, Luke could feel something — a calm, mistful feeling — and it appealed to him. He had felt the Force here before, but only briefly, not having the chance to really explore as he'd wished...

He knew he shouldn't go closer, shouldn't risk it, but the Force felt so strong here...

Artoo touched his side with an extended mechanical claw and buzzed at him in protest. Luke patted him away and moved forward.

A bright light shone over towards them, blinding Luke. He sidestepped out of the way, Artoo twirling behind him.

The scout droid lingered a while... then it slowly flew away.

Abashed, Luke let out a stricken breath as he looked at the astromech droid.

"Alright, alright... just the lightsaber, then we go," he whispered, holding up his hands in defeat. Artoo's body made a nodding motion and his round head swiveled. He headed the other direction. Luke sighed, but let him lead the way.

They walked for a long time, avoiding the Imperials' lines of sight and keeping to the taller formations of rock whenever they could. Gradually, Luke was detecting more materials — various scraps of plastoid and titanium — but no sights that seemed familiar. Artoo was silent.

Then Artoo stopped. His dome turned to Luke and he let out a few lively bleeps.

Luke lifted his head. "Really, Artoo? You... you found it?"

The young man stepped away and went towards him.

" _No, Luke."_

Luke started and jerked his knees back. He looked around him, pointing his blaster.

" _You must leave this place, and quickly."_

He withdrew his gun, heart pounding. He let out a whiff of relief. He _knew_ that voice...

"Ben?..."

Artoo's dome spun backward, and he made a questioning chime.

" _Leave, Luke."_ The voice of his friend and mentor was unmistakable, and seemed to echo as if carried through a cave. But Ben's voice didn't have its usual warmth and kindness — it was stern. Uneasily, Luke remembered that he'd heard Ben's voice on Vrogas Vas before, that he'd warned him then... but that battle was _over_ now.

" _You were not ready before,"_ Ben's voice said. " _And you are not ready now. Turn back."_

"But... but Ben!..." Luke couldn't help raising his voice. "How do I... Ben, I know this is dangerous, but I _had_ to come back! It's my father's lightsaber! How... how can I become a Jedi if I don't have a Jedi's weapon?"

" _Patience,"_ Ben urged him. " _You will find another way. But now, you must leave. You must leave now, Luke. Hurry!"_

Luke's answer was quick, and spilled out of his mouth:

"I can't."

Luke stood there, bewildered and taken aback by his own words. Silently, he waited for an answer, almost hoping for a reproach.

Ben's voice, however, did not return.

Instead, there came a sharp tap, like metal being struck with a rod.

"A lightsaber... did I hear that right?" said a voice, and the metallic tap was heard again.

Luke moved and again yanked out his blaster. He inched closer to the origin of the voice, which was definitely not Ben's — it was coarser, deeper. Alive.

In the distance, a large mass showed up on his lenses' screen. On the ground there were bodies of robed guards. As he came closer, Luke could see the details of the mass: a dorsal-shaped plate stuck out, there were vents from an engine, and folded triangular wings that were now mostly buried in sand...

The Imperial shuttle!

 _Tap._ The sound came again, but it hit the ground this time, followed by footsteps. From the left side of the crashed shuttle, something had emerged behind a reflective container. The heatwaves of a human body came through the night vision, slowly approaching.

"Stay where you are. I'm armed," Luke warned, taking a step back. He heard Artoo beep and shake behind him.

The person did as Luke told them, and was still. But a glowrod emitted; they were holding it out to see. The only thing that seemed to be picked up electronically from them was a comlink, and a strange energy coming from one side of their face, perhaps an implant of some kind. Squinting, Luke could see the stranger was a man, who held a walking cane in his other hand and was leaning on it.

Luke paused. He lifted the goggles from his eyes and lowered his blaster.

Then he realized the man was wearing an Imperial uniform.

"Artoo — cut off comm signals," Luke commanded. The droid obeyed, bringing out his detection device, which maneuvered side-to-side, now blocking all communications near them.

"Hmm," Luke heard the man sound out, as if he were pondering something.

"Don't move," Luke warned him coldly. "You can see I have a gun. I'll use it."

"Ah, yes..." The old man made a light tap with his cane — the source of the sound Luke had heard earlier. "An M-57 blaster pistol. Cheap, common weapon... I'm sure you _would_ use it, especially since it's only set to stun."

Luke raised his eyebrows, his insides now whirling with a mix of caution and confusion. He looked at the blaster in his hands, hesitating, wondering if he should change the setting... How had the Imperial observed all this in the dark?

"I gather you are a Rebel fighter," said the man in his rough voice, speaking as if he were greeting a visitor. "A pilot no less, judging from the orange jumpsuit."

This Imperial was remarkably calm for someone being held at gunpoint, Luke thought. He didn't seem ruffled at all. Luke didn't know what he was playing at, but he felt an edge of impatience as he eyed the shuttle. It was only a few feet away. He didn't have time for this... and Ben's words of warning were still fresh on his mind. He needed to leave, but he was so close now... All he needed was to get inside...

 _"Stun_ is all I need to take you down." He clutched the blaster, taking small steps towards the shuttle. "So don't try anything. I don't want trouble... I just need to..."

"Fetch your lightsaber, yes I know. I heard you." The Imperial tipped his head towards the shuttle, gesturing with the glowrod. "However... I'm afraid you won't find it there."

Luke stared at him, and moved closer. The light of the glowrod wasn't the brightest, but he could make out the man's face; it was aged and blemished, with a shaggy mustache grown out to the sides of his face. He wore a standard Imperial cap on his head and a monocle over one eye.

"My name is Thanoth," the man said, making an earnest nod at him. The light on his face shifted as he gestured towards him, still holding the tiny lamp, and he made a shadowy smile.

"...Luke Skywalker, I presume?"


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the comments/ faves/ follows for this story; I really appreciate it :) Hope you continue to enjoy. _  
_

 _—_

* * *

—

Luke blinked, grimaced, and his eyes locked on the other man where he stood. His head was buzzing, but no words were coming to him. He stood dumb.

"No need to be alarmed, young man... I assure you, I am no threat to you."

 _How in blue blazes does he know who I am?_ Luke thought. This man's uncanny knowledge was making him more and more nervous. Artoo now rolled his way over beside Luke, making several loud, inquiring noises. Luke put a foot in front of him, keeping the droid from going any further.

Thanoth made a wide smile, lifting his chin with an air of a patient teacher, ready for his student to ask a question.

Luke compressed his lips. He had to stay calm...

"No," he declared, not letting his grip falter as he held out the blaster.

"No?..." Thanoth's tone was loaded with mocking doubt.

"Luke... Sky... _whatever_... I don't know who that is, or what you're talking about. Look, I just need you to — to just —"

"Of course, of course. Your lightsaber." Thanoth turned. He aimed the glowrod's light toward the metal container that was near the fallen shuttle. Thanoth stepped over to it, and gave it a trusty tap with his cane. "In case you cannot tell, this is a security safe. _My_ security safe... Would you like to see what it can do?" Thanoth bent down his head. "Activate advanced setting, ultra."

At this, a tiny white light beamed on the front side of the box, flickering on and off, and the whole device reverberated with a motor-like hum.

Luke felt a charge of panic, and eyed the safe. "What... did you just _do?"_

The older man gave him a brisk look from underneath his cap. "You really need to ask, young Luke?... Your lightsaber is inside. It is now _locked_ inside. The containment layer is blaster-proof, laser-proof, and the inner shell is enhanced with turadium. It is self-destructible and voice-activated only."

Curses that could only be uttered by the likes of sand people now bombarded Luke's mind.

"What... what... _who do you think you..."_ He swept towards the safe and knelt down to it, and scrambled to find something to press or grasp. There were no hinges, no buttons, and nothing to access. Artoo joined his efforts, scrutinizing the safe. He prodded it with electricity, engulfed it with a mini-flamethrower, and brought out several blade-edged contraptions, which screeched on the safe's surface. Nothing made a mark. Artoo groaned lowly in disappointment.

"Throwing yourself at something I said is self-destructible on my command?" Thanoth commented dryly. "You are an impulsive one."

Luke punched the container top, furious. Then a thought occurred to him...

He shot a scowl at Thanoth, rose to his feet, and rushed to the shuttle. _Finally_ , he had reached it, the thing he had been searching for in these past treacherous hours, the thing that would _really_ have his father's Jedi weapon, and prove this old Imperial was a liar.

He stepped inside. The flooring was broken and covered with inches of sand and smoldered parts. He looked above and below the boarding area, made sure to search every crevice he possibly could. Artoo joined him, using his sensors. They both searched for several minutes. Nothing that even looked like it could've been part of his lightsaber was found...

He emerged from the craft, and his eyes fell on the bodies of the fallen guards, the ones who had once held him captive. Reluctantly, he went to them. He bent down to search them, shooting steely looks back at Thanoth every few seconds, making sure he didn't move. With Artoo's scanners, he found that the guards had hidden packs that held blaster-pistols, vibroblades, grenades...

But no lightsaber. Luke turned back to Thanoth. The sight of the old Imperial looking at him, so calm and unbothered, only made his frustration flare up more. Heading towards him, he clenched his fists and gripped his weapon.

"Activate the safe. Open it," he told him, and his hands fumbled to switch the blaster's stun setting off. "Open it _now!"_

"I will. In time. First, you must listen to what I have to say."

 _"Open it or I shoot,"_ Luke spat hotly. "Your fancy box might be blaster-proof, but I'll bet _you're_ not."

Thanoth stood there, his eyebrows furrowing, but the smile didn't completely leave his face. Mild respect was glinting in his eyes. "Young Luke... I must say, I'm actually quite pleased to meet you. I can see you have determination _..._ And quite clever of you, ordering your astromech to block all comms..." He made a slightly tired huff. "Still, you see I am unarmed and defenseless. It's not too much to ask, is it, for a moment of your time?"

"You're with the _Empire_. If you're 'pleased' to meet me, it's only so you can have the opportunity to kill me." Luke scoffed. "Imperials are like that _._ "

"Great stars, boy, what nonsense propaganda have they been feeding you?..." Thanoth gestured towards his chest. " _I_ am the one in danger here! All the same, I can have your cherished weapon blown to bits with a word, so let's do away with this juvenile animosity. Simply allow me a moment to _speak_... You will be thankful that you did, Luke. If you went to all this trouble just for that lightsaber... I know, without a doubt, that you will want to hear what I have to say."

Luke narrowed his eyes. He didn't want to give this man anything. He was keeping his lightsaber from him _._ And he was an agent of the Empire, one of those windbag officers by the looks of him...

Still, Luke couldn't shake off a strange, unwarranted feeling he was getting from him. It wasn't just the annoyance and discomfort at how much he knew, and how he had trapped Luke in his own quest for his lightsaber; it was the nagging feeling that perhaps Thanoth actually did mean him no harm. But no Imperial he'd ever encountered had wanted to help him; the Empire was built on greed, and this Thanoth was part of it. Yet Luke had to admit he was curious about this strange old man, and threatening him wasn't getting him anywhere...

"Okay... so you have my lightsaber... and you know who I am," he said, lowering the blaster. "But I've never met _you,_ so how about _I_ ask the questions? Starting off with why I should listen to you when you're an Imperial _and_ you're blackmailing me? What are you even doing out here, picking things up from a battlefield? You're no scout."

"No. I'm a professional investigator. I was inspecting the remains for... retrievable purposes." Thanoth now turned to the shuttle, observing it where it lay, half-swallowed in sand. "I found this spot... the place where you were briefly captured, yes? I suppose you realized your weapon was gone too late, hence your delayed attempt to recover it... Ah, don't look so agitated," he said, noticing Luke's scowl. "It is perfectly understandable, and it led to our meeting, didn't it? Quite a work of fate... And I will say, Vrogas Vas is not the _first_ planet I've been to in my recent investigations. I've also been to Naboo... and to Tatooine."

He looked at Luke, as if expectant. But Luke only frowned.

"And what exactly were you investigating?" he asked slowly.

"A case. Or at least a connection to it. It's quite complex work, but..." Thanoth paused a moment. "...You see, I am currently serving as the adjutant of Lord Vader."

Artoo released an alarmed noise, and his receptor looked up to Luke. The young man didn't move. His gaze remained on Thanoth.

"Go on," he said, the corners of his mouth stretched.

Thanoth casually swept a hand over his shoulder, brushing away specks of drifting dirt from his uniform. "I was assigned to Vader to assist him, keep tracks on him. Basically, make sure he doesn't do anything that the Grand General doesn't approve of. You see... your destruction of the Death Star did not exactly have a positive effect on Vader, nor did the disruptions you and your friends caused on Cymoon 1."

Luke felt an unsettling pull in his stomach. So Thanoth knew he was responsible for destroying the Death Star... And he also knew of his help in destroying the weapons factory on Cymoon 1, one of the Empire's main suppliers...

"Vader was blamed for those disasters, and demoted in his command," Thanoth went on. "Hence my being promoted to his adjutant."

"Congrats. I'm so happy for you," Luke said, his voice dull with bitterness. "So Vader had you find out who I am, track me down...?"

"No, but I assure you, discovering your identity is on the Empire's to-do list. But more to the point, being Vader's adjutant, I did become suspicious of some of his... activities, and I went looking for answers. And, well..."

He looked down a few seconds, inhaled, and then met Luke's gaze.

"I believe your father is alive, Luke."

Luke's sea-blue eyes stared at Thanoth, hard, unblinking. Then his face went blank. The blaster hit the ground with a soft thud, free from Luke's hand. A faint tremble went through his fingers.

Thanoth peered at him, and at the fallen weapon. He did nothing. He simply waited.

Luke couldn't even manage a word out — but in a matter of seconds the silence was broken for him. There was a loud _crackle_. Then the ground began to shake underneath them.

They staggered and swayed. Luke let out a yelp and Artoo helplessly bumped into him. Thanoth had shifted toward the shuttle, and was pressing himself to it. Meanwhile, a strong smell was permeating in the air that was both earthy and acidic.

"Gaseous eruption," Thanoth exclaimed through the noise. "We need to take shelter, leave the area. We can't inhale the compounds!"

Luke eyed Thanoth, then eyed the safe. He moved down to pick it up.

"Leave it!" urged Thanoth. "It can withstand the atmospheric pressure. Right now we must —"

A cloudy spew whistled from a gap in the ground. Luke's eyes widened. He then shakily sprinted away and grabbed on to Artoo, pushing him forward. Grinding his teeth, he waved a beckoning hand to Thanoth. Thanoth held out his lamp and followed him.

As they fled into the dark, Luke snapped the goggles back over his eyes. He swept over the area. Luke managed to spot a crag many yards away, suggesting the shelter of a cave.

"Over there!" Luke shouted, pointing in the direction. With shaken steps, Luke led the way through the continuing quakes and did his best to not breath in the fumes. He heard Thanoth coughing and heaving behind him; he looked back at him. The older man's legs were failing him and his eyes were watering. Luke involuntarily took hold of him and steered him onward. Artoo continued to be tossed up and down from the vibrations, but he was still managing on his mechanical legs.

The tremors continued, cracks splitting the ground, grit flying. They were now nearing the stony formations. The air was feeling less and less dense, the smell fading. They hurried toward the cave.

A large slab crashed in front of them. Broken rock was falling from the upper parts of the cavern, and Luke and Thanoth backed away as another chunk of rock fell, breaking on impact. A piece hit Artoo, who let out a robotic shriek as he was flipped on his side.

"Get in!" Luke moved forward and pushed Thanoth inside the cave, and then dashed back, stumbling toward the droid. He hoisted the astromech upright. Artoo's dome spun frantically as he beeped and headed to the entrance of the hollow opening. Luke trailed him from behind.

Once inside, Luke let out a deep breath, sweat seeping down his neck.

"Artoo, are you... all right?" he panted, and he once again slid the goggles off his eyes and over his forehead. Artoo answered with a confident beep, and Luke tried to locate him in the dark, to no avail.

"How about some light?" he said to him.

Artoo obeyed, projecting a bright light, revealing the dry, scaly cavern. Artoo, aside from being covered in dust, didn't look like he'd been effected and seemed perfectly functional.

Luke could also see Thanoth. He was hunched over, grasping his cane in one hand and holding his chest with the other, the glowrod slipping between his fingers. Luke paused in concern, then took a step over to him.

"Are... are you... all right?"

Thanoth looked up at him, his face wet and creased. Luke noticed his cap was gone now; it must have been lost in the fray. Thanoth made an indifferent wave.

"Not to... worry," he rasped out. "I have some bacta spray on me. Just... need a moment to rest." He then adjusted his still-intact monocle and observed their surroundings. "I believe... we'll be safe here. The tremors will continue for an hour at most, but they're less intense in here. This cave seems to have a layered build sturdy enough to prevent cave-ins... Yes, let us hope so."

Luke looked at him, seeing him bring out a small tube from his belt pouch. He unleashed a couple of spurts into his mouth. Luke merely nodded and turned away.

Several minutes passed, in which Luke watched as more rock was smashed to bits outside. He heard Thanoth's breathing become less rugged until it had finally cleared, and he stood up straight again. Arms folded, Luke drew his attention back to him.

"Now," he said. "Tell... me..." He was murmuring. He swallowed, tried to gather his voice. "Tell me what you know... about my father. _"_

Thanoth lifted a finger in acknowledgment. "Ah yes... I was just getting to that, wasn't I? Well..." He rubbed a hand over his bald head. "...I know quite a _bit..._ Anakin Skywalker: Jedi Knight in the time of the Old Republic, an expert pilot, especially strong in the Force. Thought to be deceased for the last twenty standard years..." Thanoth was quiet for a few seconds, then his etched face broke into a gratifying smile as he looked at Luke. "And would you believe, young man... that I have _worked_ with your father?"

"No. My father would _never_ work for the Empire."

At this, Thanoth let out a quiet laugh and weakly shook his head. "Luke... you know... I've not _always_ been in the service of the Empire. And investigators like myself would often collaborate with the Jedi, helping them in their... _peace-keeping_ interests. Your father was quite a prominent figure in those times, you know."

Luke made a mindless nod. He tried to sort through what Thanoth was saying. He had so many questions... yet his mind kept coming up blank.

"As I'm sure you know, Luke..." Thanoth continued, his voice suddenly turning low. "The Empire takes in prisoners. And Lord Vader is—"

"He murdered him," Luke blurted out.

Thanoth frowned, as if puzzled. "Excuse me?"

"My father's dead. Vader killed him." Luke glared at Thanoth. "I just _helped_ you, and you're just feeding me a bunch of lies!... I _know_ Vader killed him!"

Thanoth regarded him, his gaze keen. "And what makes you certain of this?"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi. He told me Vader was a Jedi, his pupil, and he betrayed him. Vader betrayed and murdered my father."

The older man rubbed his chin, his brown eyes set on Luke for a moment. Then he looked away into the empty depths of the cavern.

"Not quite an eye-witness account from the sounds of it... but perhaps it is true," he said mildly. "We all know Vader is responsible for the genocide of the Jedi. I admit, I thought that was Skywalker's fate as well... but all the same, it is only right for you to know what I've found."

He removed the monocle over his eye, breathed on it, clouding it up.

"As I was saying, I've been assigned to keep tabs on Lord Vader, see where he goes, who he contacts. And I've picked up a certain coded message from the logging systems of the _Devastator —_ that's Vader's flagship. At first I thought it was an internal error, but I discovered it was a slice into the systems; an impressive feat considering the security of the vessel. It held a coded message:

 _"Send help. Less my feet falter to the ground_. That is what it said. This type of coding is quite unique, and took me many resources to decipher." He blew on the monocle again. "Of course, I managed."

"Send help..." Luke repeated quietly, and he felt a sense of urgency that he couldn't explain. He tried to brush it aside, remind himself that he was talking to an agent of the Empire, that he had to stay clear-headed...

He recounted the riddling words of the message... What did they mean? His eyes honed in on Thanoth.

"That... doesn't mean anything. Even if it's true, what makes you think that message has to do with my father?"

Thanoth let out an incredulous sigh, as if he couldn't believe this question was being asked, and he took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket. With delicate care, he cleaned the see-through lens with it.

"Is it not _obvious_ enough?... _Less my feet falter to the ground._ The person in question is saying they need help, and their feet are above ground. They are walking above, _walking on the_ _sky. Skywalker."_

Thanoth gave him a pointed stare, and placed the circular eye-piece back in place. He continued. "This coding was used in transmission modules integrated with outdated technology that made for only one purpose."

"Which _was?"_ Luke pressed.

The older man leaned on his cane and answered, "It was used by Jedi generals in the Clone Wars."

Luke's memory sparked: Ben's brief anecdote about his father, fighting in the famous war of that bygone era. Telling Luke about his father's cunning as a warrior...

...Could it really be true? His father alive, after all this time?...

Had Ben been mistaken about his friend's fate? Had Anakin Skywalker not been killed, but rather held as a prisoner by Darth Vader?

The thought amplified feelings inside him — shock, delight, curiosity, concern — all the wistful emotions of a deprived son.

Distrust, however, wasn't far from his mind. This Thanoth was obviously clever... What was it that he wanted from Luke?

"...Where's your proof?" he asked him. "I don't suppose you _brought_ this top-secret message with you?"

"Well naturally, the message _erased_ itself automatically." Thanoth slumped his shoulders, as if merely explaining this was tiring. "Not that I blame you for asking, but really, what fool would reveal a secret message only for it to be traceable?... And I am certain your father was expecting me to decode it. As I said, I worked with him, and he knew of my proficiency. And while I _was_ trying to find out about you during my investigations, I daresay I didn't _expect_ to find you on this planet among all this massacred mess. At most, I thought I'd find clues that led to your whereabouts."

He then motioned towards the cave's entrance and walked outside, his boots scraping the ground. Luke noticed that the view was clear and the falling of the rocks had ceased. Luke went after Thanoth and saw him raise his cane, pointing to the horizon.

"The night is waning," Thanoth said, stuffing his glowrod into a pouch on his belt. "We can make our way back now."

Back. The safe. The lightsaber... Luke had almost forgotten all about them.

Thanoth began walking. Luke followed him, motioning for Artoo to do the same. They passed the remaining rubble and went into the growing mist that was forming in the air. The sky was greying to morning, revealing the golden gorges.

"I understand your doubts, Luke," Thanoth said, his voice even as they walked. "But... I believe your father needs your help. Or... will be in need of it, soon enough."

Luke looked ahead at the cloudy distance through his blond bangs. He tried to collect himself, his throat feeling hard, his heart feeling full.

"The _Devastator_ sounds like a good place to start," he heard Thanoth go on. "It won't be easy, of course, but it isn't impossib—"

"Why are you telling me this, Thanoth?" Luke came to a halt, his hands stiff at his side. "I'm a Rebel. I want Vader dead. And you—" He then rounded and pointed a finger at him. "—You _work_ for him!"

For some reason, Thanoth seemed amused, like he was holding back a grin. Luke dropped the accusatory finger, glowering. "What's in all this for _you_? I know there's something. There has to be."

Thanoth shrugged, his face loose with indifference. "As a servant to the Empire, perhaps I have nothing to gain. But, nor have I anything to lose. I am merely passing along a message. Sharing my suspicions, since the opportunity has presented itself. There's only so much someone of my class can do within the Empire... And I don't think either of us can deny I am no match for Lord Vader."

"But why? Why bother telling me any of this? Knowing the risk?"

"There is no risk, as long as Vader doesn't know, and I have my ways of remaining discrete. Remember, it is _I_ who has uncovered _his_ secrets... And whatever rubbish you may think about Imperials, I _do_ honor and respect those who are deserving of it. That includes your father. Yes, I do wish to help him, Luke."

Artoo made some crude buzzes as he set his receptor on Thanoth. Thanoth smiled and gave the little droid a light nick with his cane. "Oh, I'm sure you do... _Artoo_ , is it? Simple name for a simple machine. R2-units... unfortunately limited programming." He continued walking his path. Luke frowned after him, and gave Artoo a little pat before following. The droid let out muddled bleeps from behind.

"You know, Luke," Thanoth continued as the young man caught up to him. "Not everyone in the Empire is rooting for Vader... or wishes for him to _stay_ as the Emperor's second-in-command."

Luke looked at him in disbelief. "And... what, _you're_ one of those people? You want things to _change_?"

He paused to consider his own words, to let the possibilities form in his head. If his father _was_ alive... if Luke managed to save him... it could mean victory. Against Vader, against the Empire. The galaxy _needed_ the Jedi...

"I'm not sure you're aware," said Thanoth suddenly, "but the Skywalker bloodline is _powerful_ , Luke. I know that much by now. And you have been wanting to learn the ways of the Force, have you not? Should you find your father..."

Of course. His father, a Jedi, could teach him. Luke could be taught as a Jedi, no longer hunting for bits of decaying legend hidden in remote planets like this one. His father would be there to show him the way. And Luke would earnestly be at his side, to follow, to fight, to learn...

It was all so dreamlike, almost too dreamlike for him to even dare hope for. That he could have his father back. That he could meet him, know him. Anakin Skywalker, Jedi, hero, friend to Ben... He'd finally feel that root of emptiness he'd always carried and buried inside him become something else, something whole, the dreams in his heart turned real. He'd be — part of a family again...

"The choice is up to you," Thanoth said, interrupting his thoughts. "But whatever you do, you will have to do it alone. I won't speak of your identity to the Empire, of course, but I do have other duties to perform soon, tasks for Lord Vader... Have to keep him from suspecting anything, you know — ah, here we are. Back again."

The shuttle was in sight, its shape resembling giant teeth jutting from the scattered fog. They walked to it, and Luke went straight to the silvery box, tripping on some broken rock as he went. As Thanoth had claimed, the safe was undamaged from the gaseous eruption. It was still humming, its tiny light still flashing. He lifted the safe and managed to hold it in one hand. To his surprise, he found it wasn't all that heavy. Then he searched the ground and saw his blaster, still lying on the ground. He snatched it in one hand.

Luke paused for a moment, thinking.

Thanoth stood there opposite of him, the approaching sunlight falling on his brown scalp. "I suppose now you'll want me to release the safe... Fair enough that I do so before we part ways."

Luke looked from him to the safe, to the gun. He took a shallow breath.

"No. You're not going anywhere."

He aimed the blaster at Thanoth and stepped forward. He kept the nozzle inches from Thanoth's chest.

"You obviously know... _things,"_ he said, watching him steadily. "So I'm going to be crazy and actually follow up on your story. But you're coming with me, inspector."

Thanoth made a heavy frown, his mustache bristling as he did so, but he didn't move.

"So... " Luke now hesitated as he tried to think of what to do next, what to say, how to proceed. "So... okay. You get out your comlink. You're going to call for... assistance. Tell them to..."

"...Come to this location?" supplied Thanoth. "Just one trooper, I suppose? With a transport?"

Luke nodded. Artoo was fidgeting, and he released several loud sounds in protest. Luke shook his head at him, then regarded the locked container he held.

"No. Don't worry, Artoo. We're either going to find my father..." He lifted the safe up and down in his hand. "...or find yet another reason to laser-blast an Imperial."

Thanoth closed his eyes with the air of someone withstanding a long-tolerated burden. He drummed a finger over the top of his cane.

"Blasters... shoot... plasma. _Not lasers,"_ he gritted out. "Great stars, I even _said_ the safe was blaster-proof _and_ laser-proof..."

With that, Thanoth reached into a pouch to bring out his comlink, grumbling about short attention spans as Luke slanted his jaw in annoyance.


	3. Chapter 3

Above Shu-Torun, the _Devastator_ lingered. From the vast Star Destroyer's hatch a shuttle departed, and it began making its way down to the molten world below.

The atmosphere of the planet enveloped the ship, surrounding it in a consuming crimson. Within minutes, the shuttle was already flying past the capitol's metropolis of clustered buildings, with their pristine steel-blue turrets, columns, and silver spires reaching outward, suitable for the reputation of Shu-Torun's mining culture.

The shuttle flew toward the Shu-Torun palace and was immediately allowed access by flight security. Passing several projecting towers, the ship reached the platform of the palace hangar. It landed with ease, its flanking wings gracefully folded upon descent.

The ramp dropped, and Vader strode down it. His broad form stood out like a dark pillar on the lucent platform. Following him was an assemblage of stormtroopers.

Another ship arrived afterward, if one could call it a ship. It was nothing like the elegant, durasteel design of the Imperial craft; it was that of a fleshy, aquatic-looking creature that was embedded with patches of machinery and metal plating. It landed and its jaws opened, revealing a well-lit walkway. Doctor Cylo and his fellow cyborgs emerged from it.

Rather than view them, Vader looked ahead, where awaiting them was the newly-appointed monarch of Shu-Torun, Trios. She stood with a pair of golden-armored guards, and was clad in similar armor herself. Her young eyes expelled nervousness despite her calm demeanor.

Vader was the first to address her, his troopers following, their bustled steps snapping loudly as they came to a stop.

"Queen Trios," he said in his mechanical gravel. "It seems your people are in a hurry to ensure their own demise."

The young woman breathed in, and seemed determined to not avert her gaze.

"Lord Vader. We are... sorry to require the Empire's assistance yet again," she said in a reserved voice. "I have tried, but the ore-dukes refuse to listen. I believe —"

"Simply lead us to the ore-duke's delving-citadel. The walker military units will soon deploy from the _Devastator_. I will assume complete command, as your leadership is clearly not rectifying the situation. Let us go."

"Of... course, Lord Vader." She moved as if to turn, but paused, as her eyes caught the sight of the other man who was now approaching them. Cylo stood to the opposite side of the Dark Lord, hands held behind his back, and he nodded and regarded her.

"Greetings, Highness. I am Doctor Cylo. See to it that we are supplied with proper surveillance equipment in the nearest station. My crew and I will also require a holomap of the area."

Trios looked from the Sith Lord to Cylo, and seemed inquisitive for a fleeting moment, but she bowed her head in obedience and turned, her blue cloak swaying.

"This way," she said to them.

Vader and Cylo followed her, an array of Imperial troopers and cybernetic human beings following in their wake.

Bothered at having the rogue scientist walking alongside him as though they were equals, Vader decided to focus elsewhere, on the view ahead. He studied the nearby palace, with its metallic structure against the dark red sky. In the distance volcanoes spurred, trailing down lightning-shaped paths of lava, reminding him of another such planet flowing with oceans of fire...

Vader was aware that Cylo was watching him, unsurprisingly. Impatient to be acknowledged, waiting to be provoked. Vader decided to oblige.

"I can see you will be proving your worth in this war, Cylo... by hiding from it behind a map."

At his remark, Cylo made an impassive frown.

"I am a scientist, Lord Vader. I think. I plan. I calculate." He blinked with his one human eye, while his replacement Rodian eye remained open, a dark orb that looked like a giant, reflective pustule. With his greying hair and thin beard, Cylo otherwise appeared as a middle-aged man, but was actually one of several bodies that the original had prepared, programmed with an "immortal" system that carried his memory and likeness. This one had activated when the last body had died — the body Vader had found when he first uncovered Cylo's identity.

Cylo held up his chin with an air of assurance. "I will be where I can be most useful, Lord Vader. And so will you... out in the battlefield, with all the other dispensable lifeforms."

Vader's angular mask faced forward, his stride as unhurried as ever. He was in no mood to waste time on Cylo's pomp. He was eager to get to the root of this planet's conflict, to strike against the insurrectionists, dominate Shu-Torun and secure its mineral resources. Then he would hold his victory before the Emperor and be free of this absurd "rivalry" with these abominations. Or at the very least, be closer to being rid of it.

"My life is not the one in question," he responded to Cylo. "Unlike you, I do not need to make copies of myself due to a tendency to die."

Cylo made a modest smirk. "A tendency that doesn't matter when you control the solution. Unlike you, I can invent machines that can _grant_ me immortality."

"For a scientist, Cylo, you seem far swept in dreams."

"And you seem to forget that the Emperor himself has granted our presence here. Darth Vader: mighty warrior, Imperial enforcer... He can wield a lightsaber and perform dark sorcery... And yet, here _we_ are with him."

Vader continued his walk, appearing unaffected though secretly irritated. Evidently the scientist was going to be arrogant per usual, with all his shallow attempts to be seen as formidable. Vader could tell his patience would be tried while working with him on this mission.

"I _am_ the Empire's enforcer," he said, his heavy voice concise as it filtered through the transmitter. "I have been so for decades. I have led many battalions and won many worlds over to the Empire, and this planet shall be no different. Its people will either comply or face the Empire's wrath."

Ahead of them, the young queen made a half glance behind her shoulder.

"It _will_ be different because _I_ will be the one who wins this war," snapped the scientist. "My creations, my _mind_ , will be the key to _lasting_ victory in the Empire. The galaxy has no use for pious Force-worshipping. You'll discover that soon enough."

Behind him, another woman nodded in agreement, closely followed by a few floating drones. Referred to as Voidgazer, she was also a scientist, and was fitted with headgear and blue, telescope-like contraptions that had replaced her eyes. The protruding caps beamed like minuscule moons.

"Only _science_ can create progress," she declared in her flat, high-pitched voice. "The Empire needs genius minds more than brute force. The Emperor knows this. He knows those of us who have vision, those of us who will ensure the future of —"

"And those who are stuck in the _past_ ," added another voice among Cylo's group, that of a round-faced young man, Morit, who walked alongside his sister, Aiolin. Like all of Cylo's creations, their bodies were implemented with cybernetics, though they appeared as normal humans. Additionally, to Vader's annoyance, they looked very Jedi-like, always wearing brown cloaks, and they had been trained in lightsaber combat.

"We will see... who lives to see such a future," Vader said, musing darkly.

Trios had led them across the threshold of the mountainous structure where her palace sat. Sentries stood in place at the edges of the pathway.

"The guards will show you to into the palace. You can use one of the Abyssal Hall chambers for your work," Trios told Cylo, holding out her arm. Vader felt a grim satisfaction as he noted her decorative prosthetic; a result of the hand she'd lost on his previous visit when she'd tried to pull a blaster on him.

Cylo nodded to the queen, but stayed for a moment.

"I think I will leave Voidgazer with you, Vader," he insisted, lifting a finger to beckon her. "I'm sure her drones will be most useful to your assessments"

Vader made no response. Voidgazer gave a curt nod and stepped away, standing to the side of Vader's fleet like she was a soldier herself. With that, Cylo left with the guards.

Vader simply said, "To the citadel. Now."

After having traveled through the winding tunnels of the underside, they came to a large opening. It was a blue, cavernous area, its stone walls, formations, and surface cooled and eroded by time. Not far from them in a wide, hollow gap was a gigantic structure: a Shu-Torun mining refinery. It was copper-colored and composed of several bulky levels. Giant cranks extended from it, headed with saw-like devices used for excavating the precious Shu-Torun ore.

"Attack," Vader commanded the fleet. "Surround the citadel."

The stormtroopers did so, advancing forward and blasting at the structure.

Vader was contacting the commanding operatives of the Imperial walkers when a huge blast of energy suddenly struck nearby, hitting the cliff not far from them. The citadel was armed with laser cannons. This was followed by a series of blaster lasers, aimed by distant soldiers that were now flanking from the factory's tiers.

"Voidgazer," he commanded as he pressed the ignition button of his lightsaber. "Send your droids out to monitor the structure from overhead."

She did so, motioning like a maestro as the spherical droids moved according to her will.

Trios, meanwhile, had brought out a blaster pistol and was shooting along with the troopers.

Vader deflected the shots that came her way, harboring a trace of respect at seeing her involve herself in the battle, despite how useless her contribution was. It had obviously been the correct choice, making her the ruler. She had seen firsthand what happened to those who tried to resist the Empire: the sight of the treasonous king, her siblings, their loyal servants, all lying dead in the shadows of the throne room...

She was intimidated by Vader, she was the Empire's pawn, yet she had a strong sense of duty that Vader had found admirable for one so young. He had said as much when he'd been led to that trap set by her father, shut in the vast tunnel as lava had spilled through the ceiling.

 _Your father must be proud... Your father_ should _be proud... You show an admirable willingness to sacrifice for the greater good._

He was cautious about giving compliments of any kind, and they had served no purpose then, not even to influence the princess. His actions had accomplished that. He had been surprised by his own words... And now as he continued his instinctive defense of the coming attacks, he realized the princess was not the only youth he'd thought of when he spoke them.

Memories flew through his subconscious: A young man clumsily charging at him with a blue blade. X-Wings bursting into fire over Vrogas Vas, one of them targeting his TIE fighter, crashing into it. Vader amazed and taken aback; he had been more absorbed by the young presence than the impact from the collision. That fiery determination he sensed from the boy, the anger in him, anger that fueled his thirst to destroy...

Another memory accompanied this one: A young painted face. A figure adorned in scarlet.

Swiftly, Vader banished that image, sent it into the tomb of his mind.

Another blast hit, and a piece of the rock shelter crumbled to the ground, almost falling on Trios and a few troopers. Vader inwardly berated himself for his distraction and focused himself back on the ongoing battle. He reached out to the Force to aid him, his lightsaber a red blur as he blocked more of the approaching blasterfire. Resolved to tell the young queen to remove herself from the battle, he held back the order as another cannon delivered another heavy blow ahead, killing several stormtroopers that were swept in an explosive cloud.

Vader grasped his armorweave cape, holding it out to shield the young queen as his saber warded off the beams of light that continued to fire.

—

* * *

—

"Is that the last of them?"

Aboard the bulk freighter, a large crate was being carried in by four stormtroopers, who lifted it from the boarding hatch. They set it down in the cargo area with all the other crates, all fit and compact between the steel-grey walls.

A blue inventory droid monitored them, then turned to check a small screen. It entered some input and then turned to the ship's captain, who stood nearby. He wore a tired look on his pale face.

"Yes, sir," the droid said. "Seventy-four containers. Forty scout droids. Forty troopers. All accounted for and documented into the records, sir."

"Very good." The captain's brow, which had been wrinkled, slightly relaxed. "This should be our last trip. Looks like we'll finally be leaving this dust-heap. You—" He looked at one of the white-clad stormtroopers, who paused at being addressed, then took a step forward to him. "Inform the engineers to prepare for our departure. The rest of you, to your stations."

He turned on his heels to exit, the droid following him, and the door parted and closed after them with a swish. The stormtroopers and crew all scattered away, the lighting turned dim in the storage room as they left.

Then one of the doors re-opened. The stormtrooper who had been singled out by the captain now stepped back inside. He looked around. The trooper then slowly made his way over to the collection of crates. The trooper stopped in front of one crate in particular, and again he looked around his surroundings. Content that the area was clear, he drummed his knuckles on top of the container.

From inside, there came a dull knock in return.

The trooper detached the seal lid, and it came off. From inside, there rose a bald, liver-spotted head.

"Well, you... _uhf._.. certainly took your time with _that_." A human hand reached up and took the other black-gloved hand that was offered to it.

Thanoth hoisted himself up from his hunched position in the box. His face wrenched and he put a hand on his back. "Oh blasted blazing _bolts..."_

"It was only about an hour," came the young voice as it filtered through the mask, and the trooper shrugged. "It's not like—"

 _"Only an hour,_ he says." Thanoth struggled to lift his leg over the edge of the container, and slowly managed to get out. He grunted. "You're lucky I had a spare oxygen-dispenser on me! I am simply not built for this stowaway nonsense... But, I suppose we should be relieved. Admittedly, your plan _does_ seem to have worked. You were able to knock out the trooper that came to my call, and make your way to the transport in his armor. No one seems to suspect a thing..."

He stretched his arm, holding what looked like a handle, and as he pressed a button his cane snapped out, extending from it. He then patted down his wrinkled uniform, frowning.

"Putting an old man through this while _you_ simply don a disguise is _not_ what I call fair..."

The gaunt face of the stormtrooper helmet stared back at him, looking like a forever-frowning ghost. Then the young man pulled the helmet off over his head, revealing the tan-skinned face underneath.

"That was the deal," Luke said to him, catching his breath. "Artoo carries your safe; you still have your blackmail on me. _You_ stay close to him and _away_ from any comms or Imperials you could tip off. Besides..." He looked at the open crate and made a smirk. "He does make for an excellent traveling companion. Don't you, Artoo?"

A low beep came from inside the crate, and Thanoth frowned as he regarded it, rubbing his knee. Luke made a strong push at the container, continuing until it fell over. Its weight created a loud thud, and Artoo's dome dropped to the ground along with it. He let out a sharp whistle.

" _Quiet,_ " hissed Thanoth. "We mustn't draw attention to ourselves!"

"Right..." Luke heaved the little droid up and gave the older man a skeptical glance. "So... what was that droid saying, about the records system? You didn't mention any of that. _You_ weren't accounted for. Weren't you one of the passengers?"

"No, I came to Vrogas Vas on another freighter. I chose to stay behind when it left. I wasn't finished with my research, and it was scheduled to return the next day. Multiple container transports make trips to battle sites such as this, and Vrogas Vas _was_ quite a battle. It's quite standard for — "

" _All right_ ," Luke interrupted. "So we're aboard now... What's next?"

"Well..." Thanoth made a sigh. "They'll know I'm not one of their party if I show myself, and that'll draw suspicion. No, it seems that, funnily enough, the _Imperial_ in this situation must stay hidden, while the _Rebel_ gets to walk around freely."

Thanoth eyed Artoo, whose lights blinked as he spun his dome, making his way over to Luke.

"Your droid on the other hand... They don't open up the cargo until they reach an Imperial facility, however there'll be sentries and surveillance... I hate to say it, but the crates do seem like the best place to hide. And the astromech, as you say, will have to stay with me. Out of sight."

The little droid let out a hum like a broken horn and twisted his head left-to-right. Luke put a hand on him in reassurance.

"It's only for a little while, Artoo. Just until we reach the spaceport. Then we can hopefully start to get to the bottom of... all this." He stared hard at Thanoth. "Isn't that _right_ , inspector?"

Thanoth was observing the rest of the cargo, all the identical metallic boxes sitting in the shadows. He seemed deep in thought, and didn't answer. Faint noises were coming from outside the room, the echoing bustles of steps. Luke grasped the plastoid helmet in his hands.

"They're readying for takeoff," said Thanoth, turning to him. "Well then, _trooper_ , you'd best get to the engine room. Don't want to disobey a direct order. It should be down the east corridor, level 4. After you're done at the engine room, take the lift and get to the stormtrooper's assignment stations, that's where most stormtroopers should be right now. Third level, I think."

"Oh, you _think_ _?_ You mean you don't _know?"_ Luke said, rolling his eyes. He worked the white helmet back on, fitting it uneasily over his head. With it, his vision was almost gone. As Thanoth defensively went on about all he knew of class-four container transports, Luke fiddled with the outer controls of his helmet. He hoped there was _something_ to help him see better in this thing...

As he went through different settings, he finally settled on one that brightened the view and offered a less narrow vision — and registered that Thanoth was still talking. Luke felt distinctly reminded of a certain protocol droid.

"...I could be wrong, of course, but that _should_ be the case. And since all stormtroopers are accounted for every two hours, you'll just have to make due, do your best to pass as a stormtrooper _among_ stormtroopers. That could prove more problematic— "

"Oh, I'm sure it... won't be that hard." Luke let himself smile under the helmet, remembering the first adventure he'd had with Han and Leia aboard the Death Star. If they could see what he was up to now...

More echoes came from outside the door.

"I'll try to meet you two back here in... one hour. Okay?" Luke said, and he shuffled away towards the door. Before he pressed the button to open it, the diminutive droid made a pleading bleep at him.

"Artoo, you _have_ to stay... Someone has to keep an eye on _him._ " He motioned to Thanoth, who made a forced smile at him. "Don't let him out of your sight. I'm counting on you, Artoo."

With that, he opened the door and left them in the semi-darkness.

Thanoth stood there, both arms leaning on his cane. He frowned and looked at the droid, who was groaning. A long, silent moment passed.

Then the droid made his way towards the inspector. He positioned himself right next to him, his three legs stopped, and his blue-and-silver dome spun in his direction. The receptor locked in on Thanoth.

"Hm." Thanoth gazed at the machine in boredom. "Your master has an awfully lot of faith in your capabilities... Trusting an R2-unit to keep me here. No lock. Nothing to keep me from leaving and simply informing an officer of my plight... He's trusting to a fault, isn't he?" He shook his head. _"Children."_

Artoo whistled something back. Thanoth made a half-smile at the little droid.

"Well then. _Do_ try to keep me in line, won't you?"

Artoo rolled forward with a sudden force and bumped into Thanoth. The aged man started, but leaned on his cane, preventing himself from falling. He glowered at the droid.

"No awards for _feistiness_ , I'm afraid. And remember, you carry my self-destruct safe. I can have your master's lightsaber obliterated on my command, and likely you along with it. Do not forget that."

There was a grazing sound. No sooner had Thanoth finished speaking then Artoo had brought out a small chainsaw from one of his plated compartments. It drilled towards Thanoth at a steady pace.

Thanoth took a careful step backward, his eyes widening, but Artoo stayed close to him, keeping the chainsaw's rotating teeth inches away from his leg. The blade then made a sudden jab forward.

The inspector found himself nearly tumble as the blade cut into his cane, splitting it in half.

Thanoth blinked, and raised the handle, seeing the few inches left of it, the other half on the floor. He looked at the droid and raised his chin as if he were about to scoff, but then he stopped himself.

"Yes, well... a decent enough answer, I suppose," he said in a quiet, measured voice. "Fear... It always does get the point across best now, doesn't it?..."

—

* * *

—

The vented floor a made tin-like sound as Luke stepped, and he stopped and looked behind him, wondering where he was. He had been wandering around for almost half an hour. Following Thanoth's directions, he had informed the engineers to ready the sublight engines and the ship was now traveling in hyperspace — but now he was utterly lost. So much of the ship looked the same, and there was no sign of a lift like Thanoth had said.

More than once he had come across members of the maintenance crew in the halls, earning a few curious looks, but none spoke to him, and asking for directions was definitely out of the question...

He had now entered a narrow hallway, one with several doors on opposite sides. Various lights on control panels emitted on the walls. Again there was no lift as he'd hoped...

He looked around more. On the reflective surface of a small hatch's viewport, he glimpsed the glassy image of a stormtrooper — or rather, of himself. His insides curled a bit at the sight of the plastic soldier staring back.

It was only two months ago that he'd been in this same scenario aboard the Death Star, and now...

 _Han was right, I_ am _crazy._ _Sneaking aboard an Imperial transport, planning to sneak onto Vader's Star Destroyer_... _You're as crazy as they come, Skywalker._

It was dead silent in the empty hallway, so much that he was tempted to remove the bloated helmet just for a moment; the stormtrooper getup was as bothersome as he'd remembered and he was feeling more and more smothered by it. He tried to see if it had any built-in cooling system, but messing more with the helmet controls only disappointed: he turned on a holocam, then a weather scan. He shut them both off.

He looked to the utility belt on his waist. In the packets, he found an extra comlink, some kind of white cylinder — a detonator maybe? Then he found a pair of binders; he glumly tucked them back into his belt and decided to give up.

He surveyed the lighted hall and all the identical doors. The panels indicated they were all locked. Luke passed them to proceed to the next room, trying to recall exactly what Thanoth had said.

"Up the lift... third level..." He wracked his memory to recall more, but nothing came.

Luke frowned, frustrated, and stopped in his tracks. Now his memory did bequeath something: Leia's orders, when she told him to return to the Rebel spaceport before he'd left.

He wondered about his friends in the Alliance. Were they already off somewhere new, endangering themselves on their own impossible missions, ones that were far more significant than his? Were they succeeding? Did they need him?

If he needed them and called for help... would they really not come? And if they didn't, could he blame them?

At this moment, standing in the cold light in the Imperial armor, Luke felt nothing like the Rebel hero that his friends hailed him to be. He was here, working with Vader's helper. He'd disobeyed Leia and ignored her and Han's objections to go to Vrogas Vas, and for what? To get back what was rightfully his — but his want for his father's lightsaber had only been used against him. Now here he was, wrapped up in this wild bantha chase led by a shady inspector...

And again, for his father's sake. Again, for a man who he'd never known... but for the chance that he could. A possibility that the hope of a stupid farmboy wouldn't be in vain...

Suddenly Ben's warning rolled back into his mind: _You were not ready before. And you are not ready now._

Luke exhaled, his warm breath adding more uncomfortable heat on his face. For some reason his hand involuntarily neared the rifle at his hip.

 _But_ what _am I not ready for, Ben?..._

"State your business in this sector," came a sharp voice.

He turned around in alarm — which was difficult because the leg plates prevented him from moving too fast — and he saw a rather intimidating looking droid, built with broad shoulders and red-lit eyes that now watched Luke's every move.

Where had it come from? Confusion shot through his nerves, but he saw that there were corners leading to compact areas near the entrance which, thanks to his less-than-reliable helmet-vision, he hadn't noticed before. He felt his breath quicken, but he quieted himself. He had passed as one of _them_ before. He had to stay calm.

"Nothing to worry about," he said, as casually as he could. "I thought I picked up something strange and came in here to check the area. It must've been a... glitch in my audio sensors."

"Error. Troopers are not stationed at this sector. Troopers are not stationed anywhere near this sector."

"Of course not," Luke said. "I was sent here to check a malfunction. Looks like it was nothing. I'll just... get out of your way and —"

The droid strode to him, its mouthpiece like a collection of melted needles. "Error, incorrect statement. Sentry droids are contacted of all reported malfunctions on vessel. All stormtroopers are currently in the upper levels to secure operations."

Luke's heart pounded and his teeth clenched. He'd been searching for the wrong place this whole time. _Thanks for the help, Thanoth..._

"Yes. Okay," he said slowly. "This has all been a mistake then. So... I'd better get back to my — "

Then he heard the sharp clicking of metal, and before he could move an inch further the sentry droid had pulled out a blaster from its arm. It pointed it at him, the weapon's red-orange ray activating.

"Halt," it said in its crisp voice. "I am informing an officer of this error. Move and I will fire. You are under arrest."


	4. Chapter 4

"No, no! That's, uh... not necessary, I mean..." Luke held up a hand, panicking, his other hand gripping the rifle. "You… you don't _want_ to inform an officer about this," he said in desperation, lamely waving his hand and ignoring the fact that a weak mind wasn't the same as death-dealing programming.

"Officer, there is a problem in this sector," the droid said into the speaker on its arm. "Send assistance for — "

Luke ducked and then dodged out of range of the droid's weapon. He brought out his own blaster and aimed at the droid's voice-receptor, damaging it, and the vents were set with a blazing ring. The droid let out incomprehensible electric noise as it attempted to speak. Luke shot again, and in a matter of seconds the arm that wielded both the gun and communicator was dangling from its robotic body, scorching and releasing white sparks.

The droid didn't take long to react. It brought out another gun from its other arm, and unleashed a rush of blasterfire at Luke, who drew back in response. He headed towards the door while his ears filled with the sound of lasers hitting durasteel.

He whirled around to shoot back. He missed, and then aimed and hit the panel of the opposite entry door instead, locking it. After this a red beam nearly hit him on the chest, and he winced from the heat and sparks, and stumbled backwards.

The droid wasted no time to take advantage of this. It fired again, and this shot hit closer to the unprotected side of Luke's neck, just burning through the black material he wore underneath. He grunted from the hot sting of pain.

He let loose a few random shots, hitting the valve of a canister that jettisoned a leak of steam. Another shot, and he hit an air filter that was installed on the ceiling. The heavy metal frame broke off and crashed on top of the droid's square head, blocking its view. Luke took this moment to slip away, dash to the other door, and smash his palm over the access button. Hunching, he dove through the door as it opened, stray lasers still pursuing him.

After crossing through, he turned and shot at the door's activation panel. In another instant, the barrier closed down and had locked itself automatically, shielding him from further harm.

Luke scrambled away as he heard the continuing blasts and chaos coming from behind the door. It dawned on him that the droid was trapped on the other side now, with all means of communication destroyed... As he silently thanked the Force, he let a flush of satisfaction rise in his chest. He grinned.

Still... someone was sure to come to the droid's call eventually. He had to flee. If he met up with the other troopers, maybe he could blend in long enough for them to reach their destination before anyone found out what had happened...

Luke came to his feet, one hand on the raw burn on his neck, and the other clutching the gun in his hand. As he hurried away, he considered that maybe feeling like a Rebel in this situation wasn't so impossible after all.

—

* * *

—

Luke had stayed out of sight of anyone since his run-in with the sentry droid, telling Thanoth about the encounter when he met up with him and Artoo in the cargo room.

The inspector was less than pleased.

"Uncouth," he said with a bitter shake of his head. "Utter uncouthness."

"It's _not_ my fault," Luke objected, holding his helmet at his side and jabbing his finger at Thanoth. " _You're_ the one who gave me those directions!"

Thanoth pinched the midline of his nose and sighed. "But I did _not_ tell you to start shooting at sentry droids. Perhaps you've forgotten that we are _stowaways_? That we are supposed to be on a _covert_ mission?" The lines around his mouth stretched behind his mustache. "I know you Rebels are a trigger-happy lot, but you realize you've jeopardized everything just so you could play hero in a little action scene, don't you?"

 _"What?"_ Luke shot him a wide-eyed look. He numbly began shaking his head. "You can't... That thing was _shooting_ at me! I had to do _something_! If I hadn't —"

"Your reactions were understandable, Luke, but this is a _retrieval_ transport, not a warship. Those sentry machines make false reports quite often, and if you complied with the arrest and identified yourself, the officer likely would've just dismissed the whole thing and let you off. Your chance of avoiding suspicion would've been considerably better."

" _How_ in the name of nebulas was I supposed to know that?" Exasperated, Luke waved out an arm. _"Identify_ _myself_ — as _who?_ How should I have known about any of this?"

"Perhaps if you allowed me a comlink, I could have advised you." Thanoth leaned himself against a crate and set his gaze on him. He held his eye-piece between his fingers and twisted it. "And it just so happens... there is an ID chip in your armor, hidden to the naked eye, but I can pick it up with my monocle. You are... Trooper SV89-T57. And... ah..."

He pulled out a small datapad from his belt pouch and typed into it. He handed it to Luke.

"...There, no reason to blame me this time, it's all right there. You'll need to memorize that ID and this code number. It's how they check the stormtroopers for their scheduled identifications, which you should be due for soon... But perhaps you'd have already _known_ all this if you called me for help."

"It was your so-called 'help' that got me lost in the first place," Luke snapped at him. At his side, Artoo let out an affirmative ring, his blue lights blinking. "And you're _insane_ if you think I'm giving you a comlink."

Thanoth shrugged. He turned away and faced a power grid installed on the wall. He opened a compartment of it, revealing a set of circuits.

"Not taking the advice of an Imperial who's on your side? You're the one who decided to bring me with you on this expedition, need I remind you."

"Believe me, Thanoth, if I didn't need you to get into the _Devastator_ , I wouldn't have." Luke grimaced as he ran a gloved hand through his hair, which was damp from sweat; he still hadn't figured out how to turn on the helmet's cooling system. "Soon as we get to the spaceport, we find an Imperial craft that can get us into that Star Destroyer. If you're really Vader's adjutant, you should be able to get us aboard his flagship no problem... right?"

"I should, yes. But in the meantime, I think it would be unwise to not have communications between us. Especially now. Thanks to the commotion you caused, the whole ship will be put on high alert and there will likely be a sweep of the hull, as well as an interrogation of the troopers." He tipped up his head as he peered at some entwined wires. "We've heard nothing yet, but it may only be a matter of time..."

Luke was about to protest, but he huffed and glanced away. Here the inspector had found fault with his actions, and he thought he'd handled that deadly situation with the droid rather well. Now Thanoth's logic was starting to sink in, and he was left feeling disconcerted by what he'd done... mortified, even. If what Thanoth said was true, if there was a search and they were caught and everything fell apart now, before their mission had barely begun... he _would_ be the one responsible.

While Thanoth was still examining the grid, Luke reluctantly reached into one of his belt packets. He brought out his spare comlink and pressed the sync buttons on it and his helmet, then placed the small device on the container top. He put his helmet back on and left without a word.

Thankfully, Thanoth seemed to be wrong about the upped security. Luke found that all the hull quarters remained quiet, almost vacant as he passed through them. He tried to turn on the comm in his helmet, but stopped when he heard a sound.

There were a few stormtroopers walking together. He hid behind a wall and turned the dials on the outside of his mask, trying to strengthen the audio pick-up.

"... Engineers complaining about being overworked, like always," he heard one of them say. "But the higher-ups won't stand for any more delays. They know that."

"Have they uncovered anything significant about the base, you think?" asked another. "It was just a small refueling base, so I don't get all the expense."

"Not a major operation, but it was still a site for Rebel activity. And Lord Vader was involved, heard he slaughtered a ton of Rebels there. Even survived an X-Wing collision with his TIE."

One of the troopers made a muffled laugh under his mask. "I don't know how those Rebels can stand it. How useless they are."

Luke felt his blood boil and hunched his shoulders in resentment. Again he remembered the battle on Vrogas Vas: all the pilots getting shot down, his own squadron about to engage in that pointless pursuit... They hadn't understood — it was _Vader_ who was controlling that TIE. He had felt that unmistakable presence, a vaporous darkness in the Force, anchoring down the air around him. And he'd felt compelled to end that evil the only way he thought was possible...

But Vader had survived. At the Death Star, on Cymoon 1, over Vrogas Vas... with every encounter he had with the dark, mechanized man, he survived...

"At least this trip's almost over," he heard a stormtrooper say in a hollow voice. "We should be dropping out of lightspeed in two hours. Least, that's what the captain says."

At this welcome bit of news, Luke set his anger aside. As the stormtroopers walked away and their forms blended into the whitish floor, he recalled what Thanoth had told him about the mandatory identification. The group continued on its way, and he began edging closer to them. As they turned a corner, he managed to approach them seamlessly from behind, and was soon trailing after them as if he'd always been there. He waited to hear any other specifics about their destination, but none of them spoke again.

When they arrived at what he assumed were the navigation decks, each of them was stopped by a small droid at the entrance. He recited the numbers of his ID and security code that he'd memorized, and the droid let him pass.

The troopers who had been standing guard before retreated, and Luke, following the example of the others, stood at a designation that was empty. He realized he was an extra of the four troopers who had entered, but the droid left without a pause and the navigation crew was all preoccupied and glued to their monitors. Again none of the other stormtroopers spoke or glanced his way.

It was an uneventful but tense couple of hours, being surrounded by so many Imperials for so long, worrying if any would somehow see past his disguise, or if an alarm would go off. To his disappointment, he couldn't view or understand much of what the Imperials were doing. The decks were dark and spacious, and the uniformed men were constantly murmuring to each other, their lit screens containing colored star charts and abstract figures he had no idea how to read.

Finally the doors opened and the next group of stormtroopers came in, meaning his "shift" was over. He left with the same group and walked with them until they reached a long corridor, where he managed to slip away. He jogged into an empty hallway.

"SV89-T57, do you read me?" Thanoth's husky voice fizzed through Luke's ears and he started, hitting his jaw on his vocoder mic.

After an irritable exchange in which the inspector pressed him about his current location, and Luke resisted answering, the young man finally confessed that he was once again lost. The inspector gave him directions, and also mentioned that he'd managed to make their comm signal undetected, a detail Luke hadn't even thought about. But just as Thanoth began rambling, the ship's announcement system interrupted:

"Attention: we are now out of hyperspace. We will be landing in fifteen standard minutes."

Luke made his way back to the passage that led to the storage room, where, according to Thanoth, the stormtroopers were expected to arrive to carry out the cargo.

Thanoth's voice surfaced in his ear. "Have you reached the door?"

Standing behind a wall with his eyes peeled on the entrance, Luke responded, touching the button on the side on his helmet. "Yeah. No sign of anyone else yet... And you're _sure_ this signal can't be traced?"

"Positive. With what you've told me of this ship's interior, its systems aren't equipped to detect re-set signatures, and I've applied the secure signal to your helmet's integrated comm. How fortunate for us that a few tweaks can work wonders."

Luke made a hum in response, but he felt a wave of gratitude. The inspector had expertise and foresight that he lacked, and as much as he wanted to find something to criticize, he knew he wouldn't be here without his help. He felt indebted to Thanoth... though he wasn't about to let him know that.

A faint chirp was heard though the call, followed by a grunt.

"Yes, droid. You did provide most of the _technical_ work, and thus deserve some credit... both for that, and for destroying an old man's walking stick for no reason."

Gibberish bleeping came through the comm.

"No, blast you and _your_ maker, you outdated, cacophonous little — "

Luke pressed his lips in a smile, imagining Artoo and the inspector, cramped in the cargo room and bickering in the dark.

"Okay, Thanoth... if what you said is true, the inventory droid should get here to lead the troopers out to the hangar," he said, now trying to work the smile off and focus. "Guess we'll see if you're right about _that_ or not..."

"Once we've landed, just follow the others as they carry out the cargo," Thanoth urged. "They will stack it onto an automated hauling unit that should go into the port's depository. Stormtroopers don't process the cargo, so you'll have to sneak your way there to retrieve us."

"Great," Luke murmured. "Should be a breeze." He then fell silent; there were shadows approaching in the distance. "I think they're coming. You two stay hidden and stay silent, got it? Wait for my next call."

"Understood."

There was a solid silence before a blue-plated droid scuttled into view, several stormtroopers following it from behind. Luke recognized the droid as the one that had accounted for all the crew and cargo before takeoff. It went to the door, ready to open it.

"We have landed," the announcement voice said through the ship system. "All troopers will begin unloading cargo. All other personnel, report to the bridge."

 _Finally,_ Luke thought with relief. _Now to just blend in long enough, then slip away once I get the chance..._

Luke trailed the stormtroopers and the droid into the cargo room. The room lit up, and he immediately went to the crate he knew Thanoth and Artoo were hiding in. The inventory droid activated the opening rail, ushering faint light into the room when it fell. A few other troopers helped him with the crate, and they all began carrying their loads outside.

As Luke carefully stepped off the rail, carrying one side of a crate with three other troopers, he looked over his shoulder and took in his surroundings. The ship was settled on the grey platform of an orbital spaceport, and ahead was a large building that extended a long way to the distance. There were many ships docked with many people and droids moving about, carrying goods that were being traversed to and from the shipyard. The unmistakable emblem of the Empire was on the fronts of all the gates and towers.

"What are you _doing?"_ said a stormtrooper, who was making extra effort to lift his corner of the crate while Luke, in his distraction, had eased up on his side. He took hold of it and pressed on with the task.

A pair of flat hovering vehicles had approached, ready for hauling the cargo. They all lifted the crates onto it, and Luke kept his focus on continuing the gruntwork along with the others, carrying and packing the crates as the blue droid entered its data and observed them.

When they were done, the captain appeared. He stood aside and called for them to file up to be identified again. Luke ran into another trooper and inwardly cursed himself, and then stood as straight as he could beside the others.

Again he recited his number when the droid asked him, speaking clear and facing forward. The droid's beaming eye-lights passed over him and its body turned as if it was about to pass him, but then it paused.

"Trooper SV89-T57. Your body glove is damaged," it said in its bland, electric voice. It lifted a mechanical hand and touched the air-tight black collar around Luke's neck. "I detect orthofabric deterioration from a plasmic source."

Luke froze up; he remembered the small burn injury on his neck, and wondered how in the galaxy this droid had spotted it past the bulky sides of his helmet. He tried to stay composed, to think of some explanation...

"It's nothing," he said. "Just a misfire while we were patrolling on Vrogas Vas."

The droid retracted its arm and made a nod, then stepped to the next trooper in line. Swallowing as if he'd just inhaled dust, Luke stayed in place and faced forward like all the others. Soon the inspection was over and they were dismissed.

When the stormtroopers began to return to the ship, Luke dragged at the end of the line. He eyed the droid. It was distracted, reading the datapad it held, and wasn't looking his way. Slowly, while still keeping his eyes on the droid, he backed up.

He eyed the hauling unit that was starting to retreat. He eyed the droid, which was still facing away.

Deciding to just go for it, he made a blind leap towards the hauling unit. He tumbled onto it, making a soft thud. He settled his boots on the steely surface and then ducked behind the pyramid of crates, trying to position himself at an angle that could best hide him from all sides.

Luke jerked and fidgeted, trying to huddle in his inflexible armor. He heard nothing from the droid... It must not have noticed anything, he thought. He felt the hauling unit moving, hovering on in its automated route. It was quiet.

 _This will never work,_ Luke thought to himself.

Then he heard voices; servicemen and droids that were listing names and numbers. They were checking the imports — of course, he had to pass through security...

He gripped his blaster rifle, tried to mentally prepare himself to fight once he was caught. Beads of sweat ran down his brow, into his eyes.

"Ninth line of shipments from Vrogas Vas. Retrieval mission. Class-four container transport." The voice of a man stopped for a moment. "Very well. Proceed."

With that, the automated unit shifted underneath him and he was moving again.

A charge of relief ran through him, almost dulled by an equally intense feeling of confusion. In a matter of minutes, he had hitched a ride on this hauler and passed through an Imperial security center without a single problem... Was it a fault of the scanning equipment? Had Thanoth done something?... Whatever it was, he was slipping by.

 _And they think we Rebels are the ones who are useless_ , he thought. Perhaps his mission to infiltrate a Super Star Destroyer wasn't as ludicrous as he thought.

Staying crouched in his position, he overheard the rush of crowds and machinery. The rattling of motors, the vibrations of racks, the traffic of working conveyors. It filled the air around him, but started to fade as he heard the haul pass through a number of doorways. Then it reached an area that the noise seemed to drown out, and sounded large enough to carry far-reaching echoes. The unit came to a stop, settling on the ground, and shut itself off.

After listening and waiting a moment, Luke loosened himself from his cramped position and carefully brought himself up to stand. He peeked from behind the containers and saw he was in a dark aisle. It had several stock levels and storage areas that led up to the ceiling. The lighting was reduced to the glowing of some fusion furnaces set in the corners.

He stepped onto the floor and looked around. There was no sign of anyone else, but it was too dark to know for sure. Luke pressed the buttons on his helmet.

"Come on, come on," he muttered, until a headlight came on. He searched the area over with the scope of light. There was nothing but more aisles filled with more racks.

He whispered into his comm, "Inspector, do you hear me? We're inside the facility. I don't know where exactly, some kind of storeroom. Your crate's at the bottom of the pile, I'm going to have to get these others off first... It might take a while."

"Proceed, Luke. But do so _quietly."_

Luke was already pushing at one of the stacked containers, which nudged only an inch; it was no wonder it took four stormtroopers to lug them at a time. He checked the doors every so often as he continued, struggling to move the crates and trying to not make any loud sound while doing so.

Finally, he'd shifted the last one off and rolled it aside. Breathing hard from the exhaustion and the helmet's suffocating heat, he grabbed at the helmet and yanked it off. He inhaled the air, wiping the sweat from his face. Luke slanted on the crate for a brief moment before he stood up straight, then reached out to unlock the lid.

There came a sound in the distance — the soft hiss of doors opening and closing.

He turned with a start, heart pounding in his ears, and he shone his headlight toward the entryways. He saw nothing. He looked at the walls, the massive shelves of organized stock, the farthest angles of the room. The darkness yielded nothing.

Before his brain had comprehended it, he became aware of another presence, one that was close by. He reached for his blaster.

"Freeze," he heard from behind, followed by the push of something against his neck.

Luke stood completely still. Then he heard the faint but unmistakable sound of someone laughing.

"Idiot," the voice said. "You thought you could _actually_ get away with this."

The voice was a man's, and was somewhat familiar, not only because it carried the usual Coruscanti accent of an Imperial...

"Captain," Luke confirmed quietly. "You... what are you..."

"Yes, _Rebel_ , the captain." Luke then felt fingers against his collar that soon snapped away, as if picking something off. "I had that droid put a tracer on you... Did you really, truly think _no one_ would see past that sorry disguise?"

Luke breathed in, and dread seized him. He began to move his hand to his rifle, but the point of the blaster pressed harder to his neck.

"I suspected _something_ was off about you... but when I received word from Vrogas Vas that an X-Wing was found abandoned, that a stormtrooper had been reported missing... That, coupled with the ship's surveillance footage... Well, you were practically _shouting_ it for all the universe to hear, weren't you?"

Luke scrunched up his eyes as if they stung. He stood there, his heart racing.

The other man continued. "I let you think you had us fooled. I got you through port security and arranged to have you placed here. I got you here, alone. I wanted this opportunity. No capturing, no questioning, no torture. I wanted to kill you myself."

There was a long stretch of silence.

" _Rebel scum_." His voice was now almost shrill with anger. "You _dare_ to put on that armor? The armor of a soldier, a protector who fights for the Empire and the good of the galaxy? You Rebels, all you do is try to break the peace we bring, you try with all your might. The Death Star wasn't enough for you, was it? You come back for another target, and another, and another..."

Against his neck, Luke felt the blaster shaking in the man's hands.

"My brother — he was a stormtrooper, a _real_ stormtrooper. He was defending his outpost, Rebels invaded. He was blasted three times before the Rebels set off a self-destruct. Most of the troops didn't survive, but my brother did. Now he's sitting in a repulsor-chair somewhere, inarticulate and brain damaged, thanks to you _Rebels!"_

Staggered and at a loss for words, Luke lowered his head. He was struck by the man's story and he wanted to say something, though knew there was nothing he could say. He remained silent.

"Thank you for sneaking aboard my ship," the captain's said with a hoarse laugh. "A lowly transport captain like me wouldn't get a chance like this every day... I think a few good shots to the head should do it. A dead Rebel for a debilitated Imperial. That's what I call justice."

Luke compressed his lips, his chest crammed with panic, his muscles shot.

" _Die_ , _Rebel_."

Luke jutted out his elbow. He hit the man in the stomach, and grabbed at the blaster, trying to wrestle it out of the man's hands. The captain groaned as he struggled to keep hold and fight him off, and in the dark Luke could see he was still trying to aim at him. He shot several times, hitting things on the shelves, metal releasing bits of light on impact. Unknown items clanked and fell.

Luke finally let go when his shoulder plate took a hit and he stumbled. Another dart of blasterfire missed his ear by an inch. Luke dodged the shots as one of the higher racks was hit and damaged, the suspension broken. The bulk of the shelves started to cave in.

"Stay still!" For every one of the man's desperate, shrieking words, a blast was shot. "Stay still and _die_ , you — "

Luke took the barrel of his own rifle and drove it across the man's face. He was knocked to the ground, and Luke hesitated at seeing him on his stomach, scrambling and reaching out. He was trying to grab his gun again.

Luke hurried and tried to kick it away, but the other man had already snatched it. He slid on his side and aimed the blaster straight up at Luke's face.

The narrow light of the helmet now cast on the man. Brown bangs clung to his face. He looked at Luke, livid, unblinking, and his bloody lips formed into a smile. He pressed at the trigger.

A red laser struck him in the neck before he could fire. He dropped, face first, to the floor.

—

* * *

—

The crate unlocked.

Thanoth rose out from his confinement with difficulty. Artoo, upon seeing Luke, lit up and whistled a greeting. It was followed by a series of questioning bleeps and hums, which Luke made no response to.

"Quite an ordeal," Thanoth said as he stood, shoving off pieces of cracked duracrete from his shoes. He observed the damage and debris on the scorch-marked floor, then looked at the lifeless man lying by the hauling unit. His lidded eyes blinked at the sight and he stepped over the body.

"Well, we'd best leave this place, Luke. Find a ship in the hangar. Shan't be too difficult, I think. Any light freighter will do."

Luke remained silent.

Thanoth studied him for a few seconds, and then added, _"Quickly,_ Luke _._ "

Luke nodded, but stayed where he was, as if grounded there. He felt withdrawn, left in a daze. He saw the stormtrooper helmet still shining its light over the floor, over the form of the fallen captain.

Luke leaned down and took the white helmet in his hands, and turned off the light. He looked at the plastoid face for a moment. It glared back at him.

"Let's... let's get out of here," he muttered, and he adjusted the helmet back over his head.


	5. Chapter 5

If it's not clear, the AU-ness in the story so far has been mostly on Luke's end. But it'll become more apparent on Vader's from here on.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the chapter.

 _—_

* * *

—

The evening was a burning glow that spread over the palace of Shu-Torun. The rosy light complimented the architecture: the pilaster columns molded from rich ore, the archways carved with lace-thin patterns, the sculptures of kings and queens. There was artistic intent at every corner of the palace.

It was not to the liking of Vader, who now stood near the edge of a balcony, motionless and overlooking the royal coliseum. A spot for the high-class of Shu-Torun to watch theatrical diversions, it was constructed for a massive audience. A shadowy crowd was forming, watching the brother and sister who sparred on the vast stage area below.

With idle curiosity, Vader watched them. The twins called Morit and Aiolin Astarte were circling each other. Their lightsabers swung in a spat of blazing color.

Morit raised his blade above his head and struck at his sister, hitting the ground when she dodged. She proceeded to strike his shoulder from the side, but her brother made a back-kick at her and she stumbled. He made another swing, but she blocked it with her green blade. She was pushed back as Morit pressed with his blade. Then Aiolin shot from the ground and soared in the air, having activated the jet-repulsors from her heels. Morit did the same and spun his orange blade again. Their lightsabers locked.

Vader tracked their movements, discerning them, judging them. While waiting on both Trios and Cylo to get ready for the next planned attack, he had come to this balcony to meditate on the recent developments — which included these siblings, who had appeared on the arena minutes ago, likely practicing to prepare for the next battle. The sight of them now did little to alleviate his discontent.

He had just returned from a mission with the Astartes in which they had aided him in destroying a vessel of Rubix, the leader of this planet's resistance. The vessel had fired at an ancestral "sacred site" according to Trios, and with this sign of open warfare, Vader had ordered the twins to join him in boarding the ship to deliver a counterstrike. Following his lead, they'd killed the crew and disabled the ship, leaving it to sink into the magma depths. He had left the twins to find a way out themselves, hoping they would die in the attempt.

Instead they'd reached Trios' escape cruiser before him. He had made it several seconds after, the hems of his cape marred by flames.

He had underestimated them, and that was troubling. As was his faltering focus at the delving-citadel battle. However brief, letting his mind wander had almost been costly, taking the lives of several troopers, almost the queen's, and distractions had no place in the heat of battle. True, he had accomplished much in the war movement so far; their threat to the ore-barons' revolt was made clear. But this war was not merely about securing resources for the Empire. This, they all knew.

And he had a feeling he couldn't quite confirm about Cylo. The scientist had been making his involvement more scarce in the war's progression. And Tagge, who would normally be making frequent calls to check on his progress, was barely contacting him...

For a moment, Vader considered contacting his adjutant for assistance. The inspector, for all his over-inquisitiveness, was a competent aide — though his presence had proved cumbersome in nearly exposing Vader's secret plans. Thanoth, too, would have to be dealt with at some point. Yet another problem to contend with...

In the lower levels of the arena, people stood clapping, in awe at the twins' demonstration. These two fighters with their cybernetic gimmicks, flying about and showing off their swordplay... Annoyance continued to gnaw at the Dark Lord upon regarding them. They should not have escaped that ship. They performed at a skill level that matched that of a Jedi Padawan — and they had no right to even be that _._ The Force was not with them. It was utterly _weak_ with them...

"Lord Vader!"

His thoughts were interrupted by a voice almost identical to any protocol droid's, though somewhat off, as if running on an unstable source of power. There in the entrance stood 0-0-0, or "Triple-Zero", a protocol droid that had accompanied him to Shu-Torun, and next to him was the "blastomech" known as BT-1. Along with their typical functions, both droids were efficient in assassination and torture, and had proven useful to the Dark Lord in his recent endeavors — despite their tendencies to jest in his presence.

Triple-Zero approached, his circular eyes glowing like blood-red targets. "Excellent news. Beebox the bounty hunter has found Mistress Aphra and returned her!"

At this, Vader felt a small sense of ease. Aphra had assisted him in many of his secret activities as of late, including uncovering information about Luke Skywalker. She was now on the run after escaping capture from the Rebels... meaning the Emperor could find out the identity of the boy through her.

"I've arranged a private audience," continued Triple-Zero. "They await your pleasure."

"We will question them both _now_ ," he declared, ready for the droid to lead the way. But Triple-Zero made no move.

"That is _fascinating,_ Lord Vader... I had no idea your powers extended to communing with the dead."

Vader paused for a moment.

"Take me to her. Immediately."

The droid inched away in obedience, Vader about to follow him.

"Lord Vader..."

He made a sharp turn. Crouching on the baluster was Aiolin Astarte, her lightsaber ignited in her hand. She watched him a solemn intent in her gaze, the green light outlining her oval face. Frowning, Vader imagined she must have thought this posture looked intimidating.

"When we fight," she said quietly, "who will win?"

He stared at her, his eyes boring into her behind the mask. His gloved hand twitched underneath his cape, compelled to perform some violent act. The suspended annoyance he'd felt at the twins now resurfaced, added with the impatience at being delayed.

"Your gaudy mechanical trickery is _nothing_ compared with the power of the Force," he said, his deep voice burning.

She shook her head and turned off her weapon, and secured it to her belt as she set her boots onto the polished floor. She gazed up at him with what could only be interpreted as a look of reverence.

"You misunderstand... I wasn't talking about _you,"_ she said, and she lifted her palm, revealing the circuitry Cylo had embedded in her. The lines lit up beneath her skin like a set of schematic veins. "My brother and I... There can be only one."

Vader regarded her, his anger unfazed as he processed her words. What game did this girl think she was playing at? Indeed there could be only _one_ — the victor in this web of rivalry created by the Emperor — and it would not be one who crossed a Lord of the Sith. Their deluded ambitions would cost them, all of them...

He suddenly remembered something his adjutant had once said: _We live in a universe brimming full of children._

As of late, Vader mused, it indeed seemed so.

"You have been sold a fantasy, child," he told her with the utmost of bluntness. "There is no future for _either_ of you."

If not for the Emperor's command that they all work together and not slay each other outright, he could destroy them all and be done with it. The twins had twenty years of training, and their skills proved... adequate, for what they were... but it wouldn't save them from sharing the same fate as Karbin. This girl and her brother represented Cylo's ludicrous vision of a future without the Force, and rivalry or not, Vader would see that they paid for that heresy with their lives.

But the girl didn't waver at his reproach. She remained passive, and spoke again.

"Then help me," she said. She inclined her blond head towards him and pressed her fists together in a pleading gesture. "Train me. Spar. I want to be as good as I can. I was a _child_ when the Jedi disappeared... You are a living artifact. If those times can never live again, let us honor that martial memory as best we can."

The Dark Lord was silent, long enough to let his mechanical breath rasp in and out. He recalled his first meeting with this girl, when she'd claimed to be an "admirer" of his kind rather than agreeing with her brother's blatant disregard for the Force. He sensed some sincerity in her words, but she was a fool to think he would be swayed by them.

And there was the detestable irony of it all, a personal insult delivered to him by the situation itself: a lightsaber-wielding youth who was asking to learn from him, but had no ability in the Force whatsoever...

Again he was tempted to call on the dark side to bare his anger, but he resisted. Now was not the time.

"The lessons I have to teach would be of no use to you," he said simply, looking away with indifference, and he turned his back to the girl. He picked up feelings of disappointment radiating from her, and he heard her murmur, trying to form words to throw back at him, to stop him.

"I will do _nothing_ for you," he said, bringing finality to the conversation.

He strode away, still carrying his contempt. It was useless to dwell on such things, but that this girl, this _creature_ who followed Cylo, would dare to ask him for help, would dare try to squelch pity from him...

"This way, Lord Vader," beckoned Triple-Zero, who waved in indication, and the smaller droid beside him spun his dome. Both droids were waiting in the corridor, their forms reflecting the red-hazed darkness. Vader followed them, clearing away his thoughts of anger and opening himself to the pressing business at hand... He was anxious to see this alleged finding of his former accomplice. Deceased or not, her knowledge could not be spread...

And Shu-Torun had to be secured, secured by him. These abominations had to be picked off one by one. Tagge had to be stripped of his command. Thanoth had to be removed as his adjutant. His son had to be turned and trained. The Emperor had to be destroyed...

"Lord Vader, wait!"

Unable to keep up with the Dark Lord as he swept the halls, Triple-Zero raised his metal arms, avid and pacing in his mild gait.

"Don't start without us!" he called haplessly. "Viewing war and mass destruction from the sidelines is all fine and good, but Bee-Tee and I have had such little involvement, and nothing like a little corpse disposal duty to lighten one's mood, I always say!"

The smaller droid wheeled along with him, making a baritone bleep in accord.

—

* * *

—

The meeting did not take long. Vader had commissioned the task of finding Aphra anonymously, transmitting it as a voice message to a number of bounty hunters. The one who had come to claim the bounty brought a corpse that had been reduced to powdery skeletal remains, saying he had to use a disintegrator. Upon seeing it, and easily sensing the apprehension coming from the small, armored man, Vader could tell that the body was a fake. After crushing the bounty hunter's throat with the Force, he left the droids to dispose of the bodies, telling them to pass on the message to the others.

Infuriated but unsurprised by the hoax, he left to again view the coliseum, this time from another balcony. The arena below was empty, the twins and the crowd now absent. Content with the stillness and quiet, he decided to spend the time meditating, absorbing himself in the Force. He let his temper roll from him, his energy stew in a black cloud of coldness. His thoughts were spilled into the dark side, sinking, surfacing, roaring within to feed his focus.

Despite welcoming the solitude, he was relieved when his meditation was interrupted; he was informed by an attendant that both the Shu-Torun loyalists and Imperial forces were ready. It had also been reported that the opposition was forming around Rubix's delving-citadel, readying to defend and engage. The combat-drills were all set to board.

Finally, an opportunity to progress. They could move forward and strike against the ore-barons. Hopefully, this war would all be over by the day's end.

Vader met Trios in one of palace chambers while Cylo appeared by hologram, both listening to the Dark Lord as he finalized their battle plans. The twins weren't present; Cylo informed him that they were readying for combat. This wasn't quite to Vader's liking, but at least this meant they would be at his command without having a significant role in the war. Despite his irritation at having to work with them, he was determined to keep an eye on his rivals. Vader had managed to keep them all fairly separated in turns in this conflict. It was the best means he had of controlling the situation.

"We must hurry before Rubix's forces can mobilize. I will lead the forefront fleet in the primary combat-drill," he said to Cylo and the queen, pointing to a diagram that mapped out the area. "We will approach the mid-mantle to strike Rubix's delving-citadel head-on, while the walker units approach from ground level."

"I must be present in the fleet. I am the war-minister of Shu-Torun as well as its queen," Trios said, raising her head and placing a hand on her chest. "I would accompany the effort in my palatial-drill."

"Very well," Vader said, after a brief pause. "You will observe, but do not engage unless commanded to do so. Cylo — " He turned to the glowing blue image of the scientist's head. "— You are to remain on standby to provide navigational correspondence from the upper-eastern station of the region. If I contact you, you _will_ respond to me without delay." His mechanical tone deepened. "You will not hide yourself in this war as you have thus far. Is that understood?"

Cylo's layered face was set with an unresisting frown. "Of course, Lord Vader."

"We will need to be careful while doing this," said Trios, turning to the map and pinpointing certain spots with her prosthetic hand. "There are lithoporoite seams in the mid-mantle. They most certainly won't support a combat-drill. If something should pass..."

"It should be no problem as long as we remain on route," Vader replied without concern. "Cylo, you will send Voidgazer here to board my vessel. The twins will not be the only abominations to assist the fleet here."

"The twins?" Cylo replied, appearing to be at a loss. "They are not among the fleet, Vader. They are aboard my ship with Voidgazer and myself... Did you not _sense_ that?" Cylo blinked with a derisive look of boredom.

Vader raised his head, feeling a pull of alarm despite himself. "You thought to pull them back from my command _without_ consulting me?"

"I was not aware that I needed permission to call my own team," snapped Cylo, folding his arms. "There's no guarantee that the battle won't reach here, and we have no soldiers here, so yes, I thought it wise for _us_ to prepare for the battle. Voidgazer and I will need the twins to provide cover while we work. Unlike you, we do not have an enormous army consisting of soldiers and mass weaponry... so you'll pardon me for not being concerned."

"We have no time to waste on your inane boasting." Vader pointed a finger at the hologram. "Do not mistake who is in command here. You will send all three of them here at once _."_

A trace of defiance surfaced on the scientist's face, and he peered at the Dark Lord. "You expect me to send _all_ my crew to you? You think I'll leave myself open in the middle of a war, while you have all the most powerful forces at your disposal? No, Vader. I won't allow it. I require protection as well as technical assistance. You do not."

Vader leaned towards the holo-image of Cylo, his black form almost hunching over it. Trios' wary young eyes darted from the Dark Lord to Cylo.

"You will send them to me," the Dark Lord growled. "Now."

"If you're trying to use a mind trick on me, it won't work. And that's predictable, even for you."

 _"I_ am the Empire's enforcer, _I_ am in command. You will send your abominations here or I will deal with you as I deal with _any_ sign of insubordination." He raised a hand and clenched his fist. The leather could be heard compressing as he tightened it.

Cylo raised an eyebrow. He rested his chin on his knuckles. "So... you require the assistance of _my_ creations, then."

Vader stared at him. He held the scientist's gaze.

Then he heard Trios speak, her young voice urgent. "Lord Vader... is this necessary? As you said, there is no time to lose. We must hurry before Rubix's forces surmount the attack. They are gathering as we speak."

The black helmet turned ever so slightly to acknowledge her. Seconds passed, with nothing heard but the Dark Lord's breath and the soft buzz of the hologram.

"...The queen is correct," he said at last, lowering his hand without loosening it. "We must move. The time it would take for your abominations to get here would be time wasted."

"We are in agreement then," replied Cylo, and he ended the transmission with a bow, his likeness vanishing.

Vader deactivated the map with the twist of his hand and then turned to the young queen.

"Let us go," he bellowed, and marched away.

Within the hour, he and the queen joined the soldiers and crewmen as they were boarding their vessels. The giant torpedo-shaped drills loomed like horizontal towers, silvery and armed with an arsenal of cannons and feeler-like spikes, used for traversing the perilous underground. All around were the noises of hurried footsteps, enormous engines rumbling, and Imperial walkers striding over the hard ground.

Aboard the control room, Vader sat in the captain's seat, looking to the holo-screen and its data. Officers and troopers were at their corners readying, adjusting, processing. All in a hurry, preparing for battle.

Confirming he was ready for departure with both Trios and Cylo over the comlink, Vader discarded the holographic screens he'd been studying and regarded them.

"We must be careful on the approach to Baron Rubix's delving-citadel," Cylo's voice broke through. "There are entire seams of dangerous Shu-Torun ores."

"The queen's palatial-drill will remain in the second wave," said another voice, that of the queen's chamberlain, who was now accompanying her in her drill. "She will observe the final triumph."

"This is the last battle," Vader said. "There will be _much_ to observe... The Rubix stronghold will be taken by direct, overwhelming force. Our timing must be perfect. Failure is unacceptable." He turned to the operatives. "Strike only on my command."

Not far to the side of Vader's platform, Triple-Zero stood with his smaller, trunk-shaped companion, both droids looking through the back viewport. Outside, rock and smoke curled through the air as the enormous array of other crafts followed them.

"What a shame that we're only here to communicate with the droid army," said Triple-Zero, almost sighing as he looked at the view. "Look, Bee-Tee, all that beautiful machinery... The Shu-Torunian drills, the AT-AT walker units, all together, ready for warfare. It is fairly impressive, isn't it? All those instruments of raw destruction..."

Bee-Tee made a depleted bleep and swiveled his top restlessly.

"Yes, I know," said Triple-Zero in a rueful voice. "It _is_ a shame they're all controlled by organics... But, hopefully we can get our fair share of action, surely there must be something more for us to do. Oh, I do hope it comes to face-to-face confrontation. I still have that idea about a blood-powered engine swimming about in my circuits, and what better opportunity to use it than in the middle of a civil war? I'm sure Master Vader would be the type to appreciate such a thing. He is very open-minded about inflicting pain, for an organic."

The little droid's orange receptor turned to look at the seated Dark Lord, then turned back to the other droid. He made a series of heavy bleeps.

"Well yes, one _can't_ be sure that he's an organic... I admit, I also have my theories regarding that..." Triple-Zero then paused, watching as a helmeted officer reported to the Dark Lord. "But best not to ask him about it, I think."

"My Lord," the officer was saying. "The mantle is now in sight. Three klicks ahead."

"Good. Proceed slowly, and stay on the path as coordinated to avoid the seams," said Vader. He settled his gloved hands on the arms of the chair. "Once we break through the crust, the delving-citadel will not be far. Today, the ore-barons die, and their cause with them. Shu-Torun will be ours."

The drill had reached the mantle's layer and the mechanical whirring continued as it trudged on, along with the busy tapping of buttons and the beaming of scanners in the background. Solid in his chair, Vader faced forward and glared ahead, concentrating on the forces at work, the body of the drill and its shearing movements as it drove forth into the earth.

There was a shattering rumble — the drill slowed down momentarily. Then after a struggling sway, it seemed to make a turn in one collapsing motion.

Vader paused, feeling a jolt of new foresight brace inside him: the Force was telling him something was wrong, something deeper than a miscalculation or technical error...

"Lord Vader!" exclaimed one of the commanders. "The controls have failed. We're listing off-route."

Frowning under the mask, Vader activated the comlink. "Cylo, we have lost control and are steering off course. What has happened?"

There was no response. He tried to contact Trios. Again, there was no response.

There was a great piercing thud, and everything came crashing to a stop. Vader pressed his boots down to the floor to prevent himself from slipping. The crew slanted in their stationary areas, leaning as they were drawn forward. Meanwhile Bee-Tee was trying with effort to not roll into a wall, and Triple-Zero tip-toed himself to regain balance.

After the vehicle had stopped shaking and the deck had settled, a stormtrooper reported, looking over the current readings. "We've hit solid rock. Gyroscopes have leveled the floors. We're stable, but propulsion is gone. We can't go anywhere..."

The Dark Lord stood up. "Activate siege defenses. Now."

Wasting no time, he grasped the lightsaber from his belt and headed to the exit, unleashing the blazing streak of red. He could sense it: the mass of soldiers that was now surrounding them, closing in and waiting to open fire. Soldiers that had been expecting them.

They had been led to a trap.


	6. Chapter 6

"Okay, okay, we got lightspeed. We've lost them." Luke let out a breath. "We're clear..."

From the cockpit, Luke lifted his hands off the control sticks, feeling drained. He turned his head and called, "How's everything back there? Any damage?"

Through the open door that led to the ship's rear compartment, Artoo made an indefinite bleep. The droid was near a large square device fitted onto the engine's center, two of his mechanical hands simultaneously tackling it. Meanwhile Thanoth was hunched into a corner, arms overlapping as he handled some kind of panel switch.

"Minor exterior damage," came his stiff reply. "But the hyperdrive is overheating at a fast rate. I admit I don't know an awful lot about TIE Defenders, but the droid here says it has a defective motivator and claims it can fix it... I have my doubts."

The older man made a frown as he turned a dial on the contraption, his elbow hitting the edge of Artoo's dome as he did so. Artoo rumbled.

"Blast, a tight fit like _this_ after being stuffed in a crate with this astromech!... Still, what with the increased speed, deflector shields and hyperdrive, I suppose we really ought to be thankful we could find a specialized starfighter like this."

Artoo made a twist with his rounded head, and let out some chortling bleeps. Thanoth sighed.

"Yes, find and _steal_... I think you're a bit overenthusiastic about that particular detail, droid."

"It's thanks to _him_ that we were able to override the defenses," Luke remarked on impulse. "He was the one getting us into the ship while you were lagging behind like a lump."

Thanoth raised his white eyebrows, still focused on the device, and he lifted a finger and pressed a button. "This _lump_ has just disabled the anti-theft homing beacon so that we shan't be pursued." He lifted his head and regarded the young man with a blatant blink.

Luke grimly turned back to the controls, mouth compressed.

He studied the cockpit, eyed the overall pod-like design, the many bulky levers and tools. It was certainly no X-Wing. The structure, the build, especially with the non-standard divided three-wings of the TIE Defender, made it less than smooth to control. But the interface didn't look _too_ complicated... At least he had managed to fly them out of the port and escape the Imperial patrol ships without much damage...

He noticed a flashing indicator: the hyperdrive was indeed overheating, and was on a high-danger level. He released it, sighing at the inconvenience.

"Dropping back into realspace," he declared, setting the ship into auto-pilot. "We'll just have to drift until Artoo can get the motivator working."

"We need more than _that,"_ he heard Thanoth say. The inspector then walked out of the backroom and stepped into the dark cockpit area. He moved to the side consoles and turned on a computer.

"Having lightspeed won't do us any good if we can't get to our destination," he said. "I'll have to get into the Imperial Network, find the coordinates... I know Vader and the _Devastator_ are supposed to be at Shu-Torun, but where are _we_ right now?"

Luke accessed the navigation program and read the stats: "Unknown Regions. Nearest location is the Setera system."

It was quiet for several minutes, save for Thanoth's fingers drumming away on the keypad. Luke looked at the computer screen and saw the data was processing slowly, likely a sign of the poor signal quality, and it showed a flickering map of systems. Another window had a list of planets with _Shu-Torun_ highlighted _._

"All the way to the Mid Rim," supplied the inspector, pointing at it on the map. "Travel time will be a while, but..." He grimaced as he input some numbers. "It will be about an hour just for the coordinates to fully transfer."

Luke sighed and made a nod. In the backroom, he heard the clanks of Artoo still at work, and was tempted to offer his help... but with the tight space, he was sure he would just make things more difficult for Artoo, who was the superior technician anyway.

Still, he didn't want to just sit here, waiting, doing nothing...

A churning sound distracted him, and his stomach wrenched. He realized he hadn't eaten since before leaving for Vrogas Vas.

Thanoth suddenly got up and began walking around. He studied the cockpit as if x-raying everything in sight, until his attention fell on the flooring just below the control pedestal. He knelt down with some difficulty, his hand pressed down on his back, and opened a small door of what looked like an extra storage unit.

"Ah, here we are." He brought out a metal box and opened it. Inside was an assortment of sealed lumps, packets, and a metallic water canteen with disposable cups. "Backup rations. Looks like the owner of this particular vessel has added his _own_ edibles." He picked up a small carton and his eyes brightened. "Splendid."

He passed the box to Luke, and then looked around the area yet again. Luke watched him, curious, and unwrapped a bean-muffin. In no time at all Thanoth had brought out what looked like a micro-generator. He set it down on the flat surface by the console, along with the metallic lid of the box.

 _"Now_ what are you doing?" Luke asked suspiciously, his cheeks stuffed with food.

The inspector picked up the canteen. He set it down on the metal lid and proceeded to connect it to the generator. Luke understood now that he was trying to heat the water in it. Thanoth lightly weighed the carton in his palm.

"Gingerbell tea. Not the _best_ tea there is... but still very pleasant." He took out a teabag and dropped it into one of the cups. "A shame we only have these rubbish snacks to go with it."

When the water was boiling hot, Thanoth turned off the generator and got out a handkerchief. With it he carefully grabbed the metal canteen and poured the hot water into his cup.

When he indicated if Luke wanted some, Luke paused, swallowing another mouthful before making a loose shrug. Thanoth poured another cup and handed it to him.

Luke looked down into the golden-colored fluid, a thread of steam trailing from it, and reflected on just how crazy this was. An Imperial, offering him a cup of tea... Frowning, he merely blew on it and held it on his knee.

The tea steaming under his nose, Thanoth took in the smell with savor. He tipped the cup, swallowed, and exhaled.

"Still distrustful of me, I see."

Luke looked at him. The older man took a longer sip.

"Good," Thanoth said with a smile. "I'm actually impressed, you know. I know how careful you are... _trying_ to be, young Luke."

 _Trying to be?_ Luke thought. He narrowed his eyes and shifted in his seat, irritated. Then he looked at the older man, and lifted an eyebrow.

"Impressed enough to unlock your safe and give me back my lightsaber?"

Thanoth made a good-natured chuckle and took another sip. He leaned back and rested his head against the wall.

Sighing, Luke set his tea aside and turned to view the computer screen. He watched as the coordinates' loading bar went from sixteen to seventeen percent. He stared at the screen for several minutes, lost in thought.

It reached twenty-three. The string of steam over the tea was gone.

"Thanoth," Luke said lowly, breaking the lengthy silence. "Tell me something... Why do you serve the Empire?"

The older man made a wooden smile, the screen's brightness reaching his aged face, making his monocle a circle of white.

"You are thinking about that transport captain you killed."

Luke hunched his shoulders. He looked away at the stormtrooper helmet on the control board. In his mind, he could still see the man's pale face. His voice seemed to echo in his ears, his hateful, frantic screams, the sound of the firm thump on the ground as he fell...

 _"Come_ now, Luke," Thanoth said, interrupting his thoughts, his tone urgent, almost impatient. "Surely you don't regret it. The man was clearly deranged. You acted in self-defense."

"I know," Luke muttered, a stiffness in his throat. "It's just..."

"He _would_ have killed you, you know — that is, if he wasn't so incompetent." Thanoth's forehead furrowed in repugnance. _"Nothing_ is more intolerable than an incompetent. It all worked in our favor of course, but sneaking a Rebel into an Imperial facility like that, just for his pathetic shot at revenge... He was a _disgrace_ to the Empire. That kind of hot-blooded behavior may be the norm in the Rebellion, but not —"

Luke gaped at him, incredulous.

"You know how ineffective your ragtag group often is," Thanoth said, as if answering him. "I mean no offense to _you_ personally, Luke, but it's only to be expected. A military group with no real military, no real structure or leadership, and no right or means to rule... And such narrow-minded, infantile aims, what with their _us-against-them_ mentality and hypocritical _freedom-fighter_ nonsense..."

Luke blinked, taken aback. He had expected the subject of the Alliance's fight against the Empire to come up at some point, but he didn't feel ready to hear this belittlement from Thanoth.

"My _ragtag group_ blew up the Death Star with just a few _snub fighters,"_ he protested, compelled to defend his side.

The inspector took another sip of tea. _"Your_ snub fighter, Luke. Which took the lives of millions of Imperials, if I recall."

"And _billions_ of people died on Alderaan!" Luke blurted out. "There was never going to be a time when the Death Star didn't have people on it. But it _had_ to be destroyed! And somehow I doubt there were many innocent people aboard it, being the Empire's _superweapon_ —"

"Then there is no reason to bemoan the loss of a single Imperial. Much less a homicidal madman."

"I'm not _bemoaning_ anything!" Luke clenched his fists. "I know what it means to fight the Empire! And what about you, Thanoth _?_ You said you don't want Vader to remain as second-in-command — you want _us_ to get rid of him for you, right? You're here helping me, the pilot who blew up the Death Star, you want to help my father, a Jedi... What makes that captain a disgrace to the Empire, but not you?"

The older man peered at him and frowned, but said nothing.

"Right now, you're looking like a traitor to me," Luke continued, his voice cold. "And as for 'incompetence'... it was that captain and Artoo that got us this far, not you."

Thanoth's mouth twitched and his eyes flew open. " _Why... you..."_

His voice shook and his posture stiffened. He looked so uncharacteristically angry that Luke was sure he'd have swung his cane at him if he could. But the moment was short-lived. Thanoth huffed out and closed his eyes.

"...Young man," he rumbled slowly, "if you weren't your father's _son..."_

Adamant, Luke met his gaze. "If you weren't my father's _friend..."_

Lines crinkled around the inspector's mouth, and he sighed. "Ungratefulness aside... my duty is to the Empire, that is true. That does not mean I think it's perfect. The Empire needs change... and I believe that can only happen from the inside."

The young man blew out and folded his arms. "If you believe that'll happen, you're as deranged as that captain was."

The inspector stared at him a moment. He then shrugged and looked into his now-empty cup.

"We will see... I may have my unorthodox ways of helping the Empire, I may even be 'aiding the enemy' now in the most ludicrous mission ever devised — a mission I was forced to partake in, if you remember — but I _never_ let a petty grudge get in the way of my duty. I never have, and never will. Even when it just so happens that the Empire is why I can never get the best tea in the galaxy ever again." He made a rigid smile, and his eyelids fluttered for a moment. "My homeworld was famous for its tea, you know."

Baffled at this strange sentiment, Luke opened his mouth to question it, but then clamped it shut. Realization dawned on him.

"You..." He looked at the old man, scanning him over. He squinted at him. "...You're from _Alderaan?"_

Thanoth made a single nod.

Luke stared at him, his mouth hung open. "You're from Alderaan... _and you're with the Empire?_ How... _Why— "_

Suddenly Luke jerked in his seat, and Thanoth almost fell. There was a loud noise and everything around them shook. The ration box crashed and the tea spilled on the floor. Artoo made an electronic shriek.

"What is this?" exclaimed Thanoth, as he grasped the edge of the doorway, trying to hoist himself up. "What is happen— "

Luke leaned over to the navigation display and searched the scanners, but stopped as a large shadow cast over the cockpit, covering them in darkness for a moment. Through the viewport Luke saw the reason.

A giant worm-like creature was drifting past them through space. It curved farther away to reveal its enlarged body, sallow and slinking back to them. Its mouth opened and closed, revealing a set of gigantic teeth.

"That..." Thanoth said, barely moving his lips, "...would be an exogorth."

"A _what?"_

"A space slug."

Luke clutched the hyperdrive, but his hand stilled as he caught sight of the indicator again, still flashing in the danger zone. Luke held his teeth together as he saw the slug coming closer. He turned off the auto-pilot.

"Hold on to something," he told Thanoth, gripping the sticks. He steered the ship and they dove downward, flying out of the creature's path. But it wasn't long before the slug's limbless body came back into view. It swerved, and Luke could see it was redirecting itself. The head appeared again and its gaping mouth opened, awaiting them.

Chest pounding, Luke turned up the speed, hearing the wail of the ion engines as he turned the ship. They just missed the slug's mouth and were traveling several feet down the whitish skin before he pulled up, splitting away. He heard Thanoth groaning, struggling, and bumping into things.

The view was clear. The slug had disappeared as they sped into black nothingness... but Luke sensed the creature was right behind them.

"...This thing's faster than it looks," he said breathlessly, his insides teeming with panic. He accessed the missile launch commands, ready to shoot.

"Fast and _resilient_ ," Thanoth said with difficulty, trying to keep himself from slanting and leaning with the motion of the ship. "I doubt this TIE's weaponry — _uhf_ — will do much to it. Exogorth's have extremely thick mantles and — _argh_ — protective tissue —"

"It's a _slug_. There's no way it can be faster than a TIE Defender! This thing's supposed to have advanced speed; if I could just figure out —"

He was cut off by a violent crash, and both he and Thanoth were thrown sideways.

"Artoo! Get the motivator working!" Luke shouted, fidgeting back into his seat and grabbing the sticks. He curved his arms and made a narrow turn as Artoo frantically called back.

"It's trying to devour us," Thanoth voiced, holding on to the back of Luke's chair.

"I can _see_ that, Thanoth!"

"Exogorths are usually dormant, but they have highly evolved senses, and they don't relent once they've targeted prey in the midst of space. It must be migrating to another asteroid field. This one is only half the size of a full-grown—"

 _"Shut up!"_ Luke steered hard to the left as the enormous tail hovered over them. He dodged it. He took a chance and launched a missile at one of the slug's beady eyes. It resulted in a fiery explosion that gave the ship a beating, but did not slow the beast down in the slightest. He fired the laser cannons at its head: it roared and flinched, but still didn't back off. Its movements became more erratic and its body zigzagged.

Luke tried to aim the proton torpedo at it, but the shot didn't land. Again the head was nearing them, the maw opening wide.

As he continued, diving, rolling, somersaulting in space, Luke's mind fizzed with a cauldron of questions that had no answers. The slug could keep up with them, the thruster boost was on low-power and wouldn't last long enough to create enough spatial advantage; the weapons and shields were useless, they didn't have lightspeed ... What could he do?

"Blast it all, Luke! What are you—"

They came to a hurtling stop and an ear-splitting screech resounded throughout the ship. Everything trembled as shadows bounced across the cockpit, then everything went dark. With a cringe and a jolt in his heart, Luke realized they had been caught in the creature's jaws.

Thanoth was making rough hyperventilating breaths, while Luke desperately tried to make out the many glowing commands before him, his hands sweeping over them, trying to find something that could help, something to get them out of this...

The crunching sound of bent titanium came through the ceiling.

Luke wracked his brain for a solution. The mouth — maybe this was an opportunity to shoot the monster where it was vulnerable. He took the laser cannons, ready to fire.

"Don't!" protested Thanoth. "We're right here with it, Luke! Any heavy fire and we'll only blow ourselves up!"

Scowling, Luke yanked the controls, pressed the thruster power, and tilted the triple wings, folding and unfolding them over and over to try to annoy the slug. The wings grazed its brown gums and the creature let out a deep groan. Its jaws unclenched slightly. The ship began to wrench loose.

"Come on..." Luke ignored the blinking screens and auditors going off, tried to crank up the thruster more, but it was spent. In seconds the teeth were grinding back down.

"No, no _... Come on!"_ But the more he tried to move the wings, the more the slug seemed to hold on. Above them, the tips of the giant teeth starting to dent through the ceiling. Saliva was now dripping down the viewport.

Luke pounded the control panel furiously, horrified, at a loss. "There's _nothing_ we can do!"

He shut his eyes and held his breath, waiting for the teeth to fully pierce through, for them to be swallowed, while all the bellowing noise of the ship, the creature, Artoo's squeals and Thanoth's wheezes surrounded him. He was too paralyzed to move.

Then he felt a tug at his shoulder.

"The Force," he heard Thanoth say to him, nearly in a whisper. "Use the _Force_ , Luke."

Opening his eyes, Luke turned to him, awestruck. Thanoth's face was lost in the shadows.

"What..." Luke heaved, then winced as the guttural growl of the slug sounded through his ears, vibrating the ship. "What do you..."

"Feel the Force. _Use it_ on the beast."

Cracks appeared on the transparisteel from the outside. Luke gasped, his muscles bracing, his brain benumbed...

Yet under it all the fire of his instincts was burning, kicking in. His will to survive.

Luke stood, legs trembling, and he looked upward. He lifted a shaken hand. He tried to focus, tried to find the power within him, that special energy that could connect him to the slug, to influence it...

"You... don't... want to," he whispered, eyes shut, trying to suppress his trepidation. "You don't... you don't want to, uh... eat us. You don't want to."

A mild grunt came in reply. The side of the TIE was met with a hard thump of the tongue.

"Y-You can't!" Luke went on, jumping from the impact. "You don't want it... You want to let it go."

Seconds passed with no change. Luke tightened his fist, inhaling and exhaling, trying to draw on his instincts, to find that gateway that led to the Force and all its possibilities. Immaterial echoes came to him: he felt the meaning of Ben's teachings... and he felt the creature...

The Force was answering him, it was opening to him like a channel he could soar through. And with it, things became clearer...

He saw into the slug's mind, felt it become transparent. It thrived on its own instincts, its own need to survive; consuming them was a necessity. Luke could feel its dire situation, somehow understood that it was starving and adrift in space after centuries of hiding, its home destroyed. He felt the pang of its suffering, as if his own body carried that same hunger.

A beeping sound came through, and Luke paused, his concentration breaking as he was brought back to the danger he had been tuning out. The dark cockpit, the sound of the slug's thick breath, its engulfed mouth caving in...

He closed his eyes and tried again. His will burned, but the creature's will burned also, and pushed at him, its thoughts repeating its need to feed. Luke tried to redirect it, change its motive. His attempt faltered, and he could feel the slug trying to break away from his contact.

 _"No."_ Luke's voice was flat and sharp. "You want to _let go."_

He called on the Force more, tried to reconnect. The power returned to him, and he latched onto the creature's consciousness.

"Let go, _"_ he commanded it. His fingers curled as he felt the power course through him, flowing like a wellspring. "Let go _now."_

It was quiet for a moment, save for one continuing alert on the control panel. Then there was a sonorous sound, like a moan of pain or confusion. The scrape of shifting metal was heard and the shroud over the ship began to abate. The giant mouth was opening. The jaws were slackening.

With a sudden movement, the slug let go, and they were tossed into space.

Luke was sent back and fell into his chair. His eyes shot open, the rush of it all hitting him. He reached for the stabilizer and pulled the lever, and the TIE came to a balanced stop. Checking the flight datascreen to see the state of the wings — and finding they were miraculously still attached — he began veering the ship away.

Quivering, he let out a long sigh. Relief filled him, even as he felt himself lose command of the Force, he could still feel its power around him, like light from a setting sun. And he still felt the creature out there. He knew it was withdrawing...

"Well, that... that wasn't... so bad," he found himself saying, and he blew his bangs from his forehead.

He looked at Thanoth for a second, but then swiftly darted his eyes away. Thanoth's encouraging words seemed to hang in the air... He wasn't sure what to say, or what to think, but he felt a strange awkwardness towards the inspector.

"Uh... Artoo? Are you all right back there?" He turned his head toward the back room.

The droid appeared and made a ring, and sent back a couple of befuddled bleeps.

"I know, Artoo. The ship's worse now," Luke replied back. "But it's still flying at least, so it's not... too bad. Probably."

He looked over the system's maintenance alerts still going on. The TIE engines howled with depleted noise, and he saw the topmost wing was unresponsive; the wings controlled erratically now, faltering and going a different way every minute or so. He had to keep re-adjusting them to fly normally. He turned off the bleeping life support. The communicator signal was still going on; he wasn't even sure how that had been triggered...

He looked at the side computer. The coordinates transfer was still loading, only halfway done.

Luke heard Thanoth clearing his throat. He paused as if stunned, then made a reluctant side glance at him. He met his gaze. The older man looked worse for wear, his uniform ruffled, his temple bruised, and his monocle absent. His expression was solemn.

Then he slowly cracked a smile. It grew out to his cheeks, and his old eyes gleamed. For a moment Luke couldn't help but think he looked very grandfatherly.

"I knew you could do it," the inspector said softly.

Luke didn't know what to say. He could barely believe what had just happened. It was strange enough that a giant slug had attacked them out of nowhere... but that he had used the Force on it with success... and that Thanoth had been the one to think of it, had encouraged him to use it...

It was rare that he could tap into the Force that well, and he felt pride glowing in himself, knowing that he had saved them, that he'd managed to do the same Jedi mind trick Ben had once done...

His warring arguments with the inspector seemed so negligible now. At this moment, Luke couldn't feel anything but appreciation towards him.

"Thanks... Thanoth," Luke said quietly.

The inspector made a nod, then picked at his side pouch. He brought out his monocle, still intact, and began wiping it with the trim of his tunic.

"Might you want to take a look at that?" He pointed to one still-bleeping alert below, a button that flashed white.

Luke pressed the button, opening the prompts to turn it off, but he stopped. A visualization presented itself, showing radio-like signals. Luke now saw the program hadn't been randomly triggered as he'd thought. The transceiver itself was active.

"Thanoth... take a look at this."

Thanoth held out the eyepiece to survey it before placing it back at his left eye. He looked at the display.

"...Distress signal," he said. He frowned behind his mustache. "All the way out here? In the Unknown Regions?"

"Well, _we're_ all the way out here," Luke pointed out. "Do you _see_ anything? Another ship? I'm looking at the scopes... they aren't picking up anything..."

"I can't see a ship. Of course, there is a film of slime still obscuring the view so — no, don't press that!" He swatted Luke's fingers away from the communicator. "We don't know who or what is out there! We're in no condition to attract unwanted attention, and if you accept the call they could easily track our signal! By stars, am I the _only_ one here who thinks of preventative measures for being traced?"

Luke felt ready to object, but held it back, knowing Thanoth had a point. He looked at the signal again, and still it continued. An uneasy feeling came over him.

"We need to know if someone else is out there — whether they need help, _or_ if they're tracking us," he said, and he pressed the receiver button before Thanoth could stop him.

Another chart appeared, linear and showing spikes darting up and down. They reacted to a voice that came through, that of a man's:

"Danger... Don't let..." Crackling static broke through the call. "I'm not worth... shouldn't have sent... If you hear me... if you hear me, do not... anyone... endanger themselves... Not try... to rescue me... Thanoth..."

More distortion fizzed through, until the voice came through again.

"I'll be dead soon... Vader is too strong..."

The call ended.


	7. Chapter 7

Vader stood, lightsaber drawn.

He walked to the middle-aged man and extended the red blade. The other backed away in awe, his rich woven jacket swaying in the heated breeze, the frills of his collar wrinkled. With him was a lanky young woman in a headdress, his daughter, who cowered behind him as the lightsaber was held an inch from his chest.

"Open the gates," the man said, his voice grim and forced. "The Rubix Citadel hereby delivers itself into the hands of Queen Trios. I, Baron Rubix, recognize her dominion herein..."

Vader was still. Around them was a mass of gilded soldiers that was closing in, led by the armored queen. She made her way to them and Vader withdrew when she approached. Trios stood to address Rubix, bearing a resentful frown that he returned.

He spat, "No matter what punishment you deliver, I—"

 _"Enough!_ Thousands are dead because of your pride," she admonished. "You've surrendered. Enough flowery speeches. Execute him."

The Shu-Torun soldiers aimed their guns and a flood of blue lasers was delivered. The baron's daughter cried out and reached for him as he fell. Smoke rose from his chest and she knelt on the ground beside him, hanging her head as she wept.

Vader extinguished his weapon. He watched as Trios and the young woman exchanged words, but his thoughts were already elsewhere.

At last, the war was _won_... His master's expectations for him were met. Despite this, he found he took little sensation from the victory. There was still the matter of the failed drill and the trap it had led him into. It had been a minor setback; he had led his troops onward, fighting through the enemy in battle after battle, eventually coming to the aid of Trios and her army. With the Imperial forces gathered, they'd attacked the baron's delving-citadel and easily broke through its defenses.

What was more urgent to him was the fact that Cylo and his team were still missing. They had not responded to any calls since the drill dropped off-route. Trios had received no word of them either; none of the fleet or crew had. The Force swirled with dark indications that met with his own qualms, but there had been no time to dwell on this during the invasion. Now however, it pressed on the Dark Lord's mind. As soon as this business with Trios and the ore-barons was taken care of, he would search for answers.

Coming back to the present, he registered Trios telling Rubix's daughter that she would take her father's place. The girl protested.

"That is not the line of succession. The eldest brother —"

"Will be overjoyed by my wisdom," said Trios, turning away, "as he knows that objecting to my decisions carries a certain treasonous air."

She walked away, the soldiers parting to let her through. Vader joined her as the girl was taken in by the guards.

"Why?" he asked bluntly, curious about her decision.

The queen looked ahead, her young face solemn. "I've found inexperienced youths not expecting power the most easy to manipulate, Lord Vader."

 _Words from a youth who now thinks herself wise_ , thought Vader. So she had followed his example, done to Rubix's daughter what he had done to her, for the sake of her world. It was an obvious show of imitation that bordered on groveling, but he felt some satisfaction nonetheless. The decision did make political sense.

And he felt something else stir within him, inevitable and unbeknownst to the queen. Her words resonated in him, bringing with them a vision: that of his own future, and a son he had yet to find.

"...You are correct," he said in agreement, after a moment's pause.

How strange that on Shu-Torun, in the midst of war and rivalry, two youths had shown a willingness to learn from him... but the one who was destined for that role remained out of his reach, sided with the Rebels, their few encounters cut short.

 _I must find him_ , he thought. The Force had brought his son to his attention, and obviously willed for them to meet again. That he had found out about him only weeks ago, and at _this_ time, when he had been demoted, doubted by the Emperor, and he himself repulsed by his master's faith in Cylo's monstrosities... He had even begun building his own private forces in secret before he'd discovered the identity of the boy... A boy who sought to learn the ways of the Force...

It could not all be for nothing. It was an outright calling of destiny. Yes, he would find him, in time... but that was the future, one that would not come as soon as he wanted, he knew. For now he still had this game with Cylo to finish, Aphra to silence, and his own role in the Empire to restore.

Without another word, Vader parted from the queen as she entered the delving-citadel of Rubix with her guards. He made his way through the horde of soldiers and smoke, back to the Imperial fleet.

—

* * *

—

"The scientist," growled the Dark Lord as he towered over the portly baron who stood before him. "He is missing. You will reveal to me where he is, and what he has done. _Now."_

The trembling baron took a step backward, holding on to the end of his jacket and scrunching it into a knot. He looked up at Vader in terror.

"I don't... d-don't know..."

Trios and her council were now meeting to discuss the war and its results, while Vader had only briefly taken part, wasting no time in uncovering any information he could about Cylo and the failed drill. Cylo's vessel had remained at the palace landing platform and had already been searched, with no relevant information found. But it wasn't long before information _did_ surface: he'd received word that the technicians had discovered an override in the drill's system, one that had been timed to shut it down.

As he had suspected, it was all planned. The source was more than obvious, but he nevertheless needed confirmation. He was now holding one of the imprisoned ore-barons for questioning. The chamber was unlit, the Dark Lord standing as if one with the darkness, save for the flashing lights of his abdomen unit. Vader took a step toward the man, whose brow was moist with sweat.

"You were among Rubix's inner circle," he stated, his voice even as he stared down at him. "Rubix is now dead. Tell me what you know of Doctor Cylo and his hand in all this, and I shall consider _not_ taking your life."

The baron stood there, white-faced and dumbfounded at the sight of the Dark Lord. He then swallowed.

"I... must be given assurance. A pardon... from the queen," he stuttered, his eyes squirming with hope. "And to remain in full... possession of my title and my estate. Rubix, _he_ was the ringleader, I am only a financier! Please, I will compensate you — money, slaves, whatever you—"

Vader closed in and reached out, pushing the man to the wall. The baron raised a hand up in defense, and Vader grabbed it. He tightened his leather-clad hold on it, his metallic grip baring down, crushing the man's fingers. The baron shrieked. He made a flurry of incoherent pleas that went ignored.

"Reveal the truth _,_ " Vader said, his tone deep with calm, "or die."

The baron made a shaken nod. "Y-Yes! Cy-Cylo, he... he..." He stopped, overwhelmed, his words lost as he wailed from the pain.

Vader stared him down, a flare of impatience building in him. The dark side was radiating, whispering, offering to show him the baron's thoughts and get the answers he needed... He refused it. No tricks. He didn't need the Force to make a weak-willed dignitary talk. He would wait.

"He con... _contacted_ us!" the baron worked out, his knees buckling underneath him. "Cylo w-wanted you dead and... sabotaged the drill, laid the trap... I don't know where he is now, I d-don't know, you must believe me! Please, I can pay an-anything —"

Vader relaxed his grip and released him. He watched as the whimpering baron fell to the floor, then he turned away. The door opened and Vader walked through it.

Outside the entrance stood Triple-Zero, his round red eyes bright in the dim hallway. The droid waddled his way to him.

"...Still alive I hope?" he said in his out-of-tune voice. "I'll take even barely alive, master, just as long as you've left me _someone_ to torture."

Vader waved his hand, stepping aside to let the droid pass. "Finish him, Triple-Zero. Take your time."

The dark-silver droid made a nod and stepped forward. "Hm, to think it's only when the war is over that I get a death to my name... I don't approve of the irony, but you take what you can get." Triple-Zero let loose a jolt of electricity from his silver fingertips as he made his way into the dark chamber. The door slid shut behind him.

Vader turned and walked down the corridors of the palace, his mind processing what he'd learned... He was relieved that his suspicions about Cylo had been correct. The scientist had interfered with the drill, an ineffective and cowardly attempt to get rid of him. He had conspired with the traitorous ore-barons, and no doubt he had fled the planet. This explained why he had sheparded the twins and Voidgazer to join him before the battle, so they could all flee together. There was nothing else to do but share this news with his master, along with the account of his victory, before he hunted Cylo down himself.

Vader clenched his fists at the thought... The anti-Force scientist facing him, knowing he would no longer have the Emperor's rules to protect him... And Voidgazer, with her diseased obsession with science... The twins, who both mocked and mimicked the ways of the Force... There would be nothing holding him back the next time he encountered them. He could kill them finally, openly. It was an understatement to say he looked forward to it.

Vader reached a chamber that provided a communication terminal. Within minutes, he was kneeling before his master's holographic form, telling him the whole disclosure of what had happened. The Emperor's half-hidden face was impassive as he listened.

"Quite a turn of events," the Emperor said when he finished. "But Shu-Torun is ours, its minerals ready to be salvaged. You have done well, Vader... And Cylo has revealed himself a traitor, siding with insurrectionists..." The Emperor paused for a moment as if thinking. "And there is no information as to his current whereabouts?"

"No. Their vessel was searched with nothing found. They must have fled the planet on a stolen ship."

"And _you_ could not find them yourself? You did not foresee their betrayal?"

Vader glowered under the mask, feeling a wave of anger at the Emperor's accusatory tone.

"No, master," he answered.

"I see... And what of the station where they were positioned? Did you sense nothing there?"

Vader hesitated for a moment. He had not expected his master to linger on such details. "There is no need. I feel certain they are gone, and we have no time. They are on the run, and they must be found and dealt with. The evidence is—"

"The evidence is incomplete," the Emperor interrupted, making a hard frown. "I will inform General Tagge of this matter, and see what can be discovered from Cylo's base of operations. Cylo's treachery is clear, but we will need all the information we can gather to find him... and in your impatience, you have neglected the most _obvious_ place to look." The Emperor's tone became scathing. "I am surprised at your mindlessness, Lord Vader. One can only wonder how Cylo managed all his misdeeds right under your nose... You are still a blunted instrument, it seems. Better to be wielded than to wield."

Vader held back his retort, his lips pressed in, his jaw held tight. He tipped his head in a gesture of submission, feeling numb to the bite of his master's words. It was his way. Their way. He knew this. The Emperor had always had his less-than-subtle insults that he slipped into their conversations, unexpected hardships he threw at him, teaching him, reminding him of his place. And as always Vader remained silent, resisting the urge to defy.

This was the way of the Sith. The deception, the treachery, the desire for master and apprentice to tear one another down. It had made him stronger and wiser throughout the years. It was why he had survived these past two decades.

And yet...

"Go to the station where they were last seen, Vader," ordered the Emperor, watching him with fixed eyes. "Find what you can. Then report to the _Executor_. No matter what you find, the two of us will have much to discuss." The folded skin of his deformed face now stretched as the Emperor made a smile. "I sense your desire for vengeance, your _eagerness_ to hunt them down and destroy them... All in good time, my apprentice. Tagge requested another task for you, but this shall be your main priority. You may take whatever necessary action you see fit. They are _your_ rivals, after all."

The black helmet made a slight nod, and bowed. "As you wish."

The Emperor's pale face remained for a few seconds, still grinning, before the hologram flickered away.

Vader stayed kneeling there as if rooted to the spot. He rose to his feet. He let himself be immersed in his anger for a minute or so, then breathed, trying to utilize it enough to focus. He spun away and headed down the halls toward the palace docks, silently fuming.

His master was not mistaken, of course. Yes, he was eager to find Cylo, to make him pay for his arrogance, his blasphemy, to put an end to this pointless rivalry for good. And though he didn't want to admit it, he was right about going to Cylo's last known location to investigate. He and his team had dwelt there recently, which would make it easier to sense traces of their actions with the Force. Perhaps in his haste to find Cylo, he _had_ been foolish to ignore that opportunity...

Vader passed through the lobby of the docking platform, paying no heed to the questions of the attendant droids who flocked to him. Soon he had a shuttle prepared to take him to the upper-eastern region, where Cylo's station was held. He also sent for Triple-Zero and Bee-Tee to join him. The assassin droids could detect traces of an organic lifeform better than any search party could.

If only they would remain _silent..._

"I do wish I had more time with that fellow, but duty calls," Triple-Zero chattered as the vessel flew. "One can only wonder what could have happened... Perhaps Cylo _isn't_ still alive. Perhaps he was shot by one of his own; organics tend to do that. Or perhaps the quake from all the cannonfire made the crags crumble down on him? And let's not forget the perilous boiling lava. Perhaps he fell and was burned alive. What a lovely thought — "

The black mask slowly set its stark gaze on the droid, the heavy breath razing in and out. The droid was nonvocal for the rest of the trip.

When they arrived, Vader stepped off, the two droids behind him. He observed the tall rock formation that housed the communications station, two levels of tall but compact quarters with a series of spires at the top, set above a river of lava. He strode along the platform leading to it, crimson light spread across the walkway. He accessed the door with a wave of his hand and stepped inside.

It was dark, almost indiscernible, with only a few devices glowing on various arrays of equipment. The floor was bare, reflecting the sparse blue light found on the outlines of the machines. The chairs by the transmission stations were empty, the walls and corners black. Toggling one of the tuners on his belt, Vader adjusted his mask's vision to see in the near-darkness. He walked further inside, scrutinizing the room, listening, but he heard nothing but his own mechanical breath and the buzzing of the droids as they moved. Nothing in the station looked out of the ordinary...

He stood still and focused. He reached into the Force. The power spread through him, through the room, and he searched to find remnants of activity, murmurs of life... He felt a pull to go elsewhere... above. He looked at the stairway.

"See if you can find any evidence of them. Any indication of what occurred here," Vader commanded the droids. He left them, and made his way up the stairs. He quickly reached the higher level and came to a compartment.

He opened the door and entered the control room. It was also dark, but held a wide window that showed the volcanic view outside, glowing red over the circular stationary area. The panels and screens were still turned on. At the center of the area was a single chair, its back facing Vader.

Legs dangled from it, casting a shadow. Vader took a step forth and turned it around in one swift motion.

There sat Cylo. His bearded face was listless, his head leaned back, and his one human eye was open. A fresh burnt hole was in his chest.

Transfixed, Vader stared at the sight.

"...Lord Vader?"

Triple-Zero appeared in the entrance behind him.

"Bee-Tee and I have found no signs of struggle or any sign of surveillance data. But we... _oh."_ The droid's voice lowered upon noticing Cylo. He tilted his head. "Oh, so Cylo is dead... again. Well, it appears you've beaten me to it, master... though I suppose you were due. I did get to torture him to death last time."

"This was not by my hand," Vader rumbled, still studying the body.

"One of the others then? That wound does look quite deep, perhaps from a lightsaber. Perhaps one of the twins —"

"It was not a lightsaber. This was..." Vader peered at the lifeless body, his eyes narrowing behind the dark lenses.

He looked down on the ground, and spotted a blaster. When he did, for a brief moment, he saw a flash through the Force: Cylo holding the blaster to his chest.

"Cylo," Vader growled. "You fool."

"Excuse me, Lord Vader, but I don't quite follow you," Triple-Zero said. "What exactly has happened?"

Vader didn't answer. Both hands locked at his sides, he backed away and headed out. He proceeded through the lower level, letting his unspoken urgency tell the droids to follow, his thoughts too preoccupied to speak.

So Cylo had killed himself rather than risk being found. He let his companions flee without him... The reason seemed obvious enough: he had been tortured into revealing information before, and he no doubt hadn't the slightest idea of Vader's ability to see events with the Force. He had faked his death to give him the slip, to confuse him... And by now Cylo's new body must have been activated, loaded with all his artificial memory and traits. Whatever Cylo was planning, it had to have been worth all this effort.

Without a halt in his step, Vader walked across the platform towards the awaiting shuttle and boarded. Soon Triple-Zero and Bee-Tee came along, and the ship set off again.

Vader remained still and silent as the minutes passed by, gazing into the distance. The droids were appropriately silent and stayed at the opposite side of the cruiser. When they reached the Shu-Torun landing docks, Vader departed without a word, and headed towards his own TIE fighter.

Suddenly the sound of an incoming call was heard. Vader stopped in his tracks and regarded his comlink. He accepted the call.

"Lord Vader," came a brusque, guttural voice, "this is the Grand General."

Vader frowned at this in annoyance. "What is it, Tagge?"

" _Grand General_ Tagge, Vader," Tagge prompted. "The war is over. You were expected to contact me with your report some time ago. How long will you be remaining on-planet? We have received important Rebel information — "

"Cylo and his crew are unaccounted for," the Dark Lord broke in.

"Ah, yes. The Emperor told me of it. Yes, we _have_ tried to contact Cylo's flagship numerous times without success. I suspected it was interference, but it seems — "

"Your suspicions are irrelevant," Vader interrupted. "I have just left the station where they were last positioned. Cylo's body was there. He shot himself with a blaster. There was no one else."

Tagge's voice lifted with mild interest. "That is... a strange occurrence. And what of the others? We have no records of their vessel leaving Shu-Torun."

"They would not use their _own_ vessel if they meant to escape undetected."

"True. But how, may I ask, do you know all of this information, Vader? If there are holocam recordings, I would be interested in viewing them."

"There were none," Vader answered. "I have felt it. The Force has shown me. "

Now Tagge made a tiresome sigh, as if the Dark Lord was needlessly taking up his time. Vader resisted the urge to shut off the comm. Tagge, a power-mongering waste of his rank. Vader knew the Emperor could only have promoted the graph-loving upstart to further infuriate him.

"Well, Lord Vader, I've already gone over the data analyses, and I am aware that there are still matters of process that require Imperial validation on Shu-Torun, but such procedures are standard. It seems to me that your work on Shu-Torun is finished. Administration is still at work on details of the sovereign decree, but — "

"Continue your attempts to reach communications with Cylo's base," Vader dictated. "Inform me of any results. I must report to the Emperor. He has commanded that I track down the abominations myself. You will find any associates of Cylo in the Empire who may know his location. Hold them for questioning."

Tagge said nothing for a moment, and Vader was sure he was considering refuting his demands. But Tagge made no effort to argue. "Very well... But when you are done with this... _hunt_ of yours, Lord Vader, you will return here. As I said, we have important Rebel information, and I may have another task for you soon. Interrogations, most likely."

Another one of Tagge's trivial tasks. Vader was already reaching out to turn off the comm.

"And it seems there is some... troubling news about your adjutant..."

Vader's gloved hand withdrew from the device.

"The inspector," he said slowly. "What of him?"

"We've received... accounts by Imperial security, as well as reports from Vrogas Vas." Tagge's tone seemed to waver and pause; he was clearly displeased. "They identify Talsar Thanoth as accompanying a wayward Rebel aboard an Imperial transport, as well as in a warehouse facility. The name of this Rebel is not yet known, though we have some very compelling clues that we are looking into. He has been disguising himself as a stormtrooper, and is apparently heading to infiltrate the _Devastator_. There is irrefutable proof that Thanoth has been aiding him."

Vader scowled at the news. It had been days since his last word with Thanoth. The old inspector was meddlesome, but hadn't struck him as a traitor.

"Last estimated trajectory was the Setera system, however pursuit has proven... difficult," Tagge went on. "But the importance of this news is that of an even larger scale: we have reason to believe this disguised Rebel may very well be the pilot responsible for destroying the Death Star."

Vader froze, his breath gone. He veered slightly where he stood, his balance off as the information hit him.

Tagge continued. "But of course, I will deal with this matter, Lord Vader. I was responsible for making Thanoth your adjutant, and you have your own investigation to pursue. The workforce will assist you in your mission, but our efforts may be... divided, as it is imperative that we track down this Rebel. But rest assured, my men will get to the bottom of this, and I will likely have need of your... assistance, soon, when we've captured them both. I will keep you informed of further developments."

The call ended.

The Dark Lord stood there, at a loss.

The boy... traveling with Thanoth... This, he could not have predicted. Yet he felt the Force glow with truth, telling him it was so. His mind flooded with speculation, trying to understand how the two could have possibly crossed paths, combined by his worries of what it all meant. He felt wakeful and rendered helpless at the same time. Here he had been bent on his mission to defeat Cylo, his path made clear to him, and this twist of his expectations was thrown at him like a challenge. This news that, if true, changed everything...

 _"Thanoth..."_ The name traveled through his damaged lungs like a wisp of steam. Thanoth was with the boy... was aiding him... What could he be planning? Surely he couldn't know the whole truth about him... but if Tagge's resources had suspected the Rebel was the pilot that destroyed the Death Star, his adjutant must have found that out himself. The inspector had proven himself a knowledgeable and detail-focused man the moment they met. What other reason could he have for locating the boy?

And regardless of how much Thanoth knew, he had not told _him_ about any of this. Him or Tagge.

And he and the boy were now heading towards Vader's own flagship...

His contemplation was disrupted by the sound of a deep, grounded bleep. Bee-Tee rolled towards him, his large orange receptor blinking. The astromech was followed by Triple-Zero.

"Lord Vader, will you be needing us?" he asked in a tired voice. "Bee-Tee and I could use a little time for a recharge if you... eh, master?"

Vader said nothing. He took a few slow-paced steps, lost in thought. Nearing the edge of the dock, he looked into the far off distance, beyond the palace. He took in the view of the burning sky, the smoldering mountains, the blood-red lava that stretched for miles.

No... This was not the time to be idle, to let himself be disoriented by the unknown. He needed a plan. And most of all, he needed to act _fast._

Vader drew himself away and glanced at his starfighter on the landing dock. He brought his gaze on the two droids.

"...The Emperor is expecting me," he said to them, his tone even deeper than usual. "I must return to my duties and find Cylo. You droids will have another task."

"Oh, a droid-exclusive mission?" Triple-Zero's voice pitched with interest as he exchanged looks with his smaller companion. "Are we going to track down Mistress Aphra? Cylo's cohorts? Or do we have a new target, sir?"

"A target of another kind," answered the Dark Lord as he approached his TIE fighter. "Your task is to be kept secret at all costs, as is your destination. Prepare a ship, and set course for the Setera system."


	8. Chapter 8

Hi, all. Sorry this wasn't done as soon as I would've liked, but I hope it's enjoyable... A whole lot happens in this one. :)

 _—_

* * *

—

"We should be there any minute now," said Luke, his eyes glued to the viewscreen before him. Outside, the ship was absorbed in a tunnel of blue light as it flew through hyperspace. Luke's gaze seemed to look past the bright barrier to search what lay beyond them. He frowned.

He couldn't help but be distracted by the state of the ship. The slug's saliva had mostly dissolved from the viewport, but the dents from the giant teeth made the whole ship unbalanced, and the cracks in the transparisteel caused it to shake. Luke chewed the insides of his cheek as he looked at it.

"It'll hold up," he said, wanting to convince himself. He looked at the status readings, seeing the TIE Defender's wings were barely holding on. "It won't be too much longer... right, Thanoth?" He made a side glance at the older man. "You're sure you put in the right coordinates?"

Thanoth, hunching at the navigation computer only a few feet away, was making a stiff frown as he shook with the ship's vibrations.

 _"Yes,_ Luke. As I said before, the message traces to the Anthan system, specifically Anthan 13, one of its many ice moons." He recited the information slowly, as if he was sparing his voice. He sighed. "And I don't suppose you'll reconsider this course of action? The timing of it is... peculiar, to say the least. We finally get the coordinates to Shu-Torun downloaded, the astromech _finally_ fixes the hyperdrive — and now this. Do you really think it's a good idea to track down this mystery call, Luke?"

"What kind of question is that?" Luke shot back, balling his fist on the control panel. "My _father_ is in danger! You heard the message, it addressed _you_ specifically, Thanoth! It matches with that first message you told me about. Everything adds up."

"You clearly have no grasp of how the criminal mind works, Luke... Information can be _obtained_. An anonymous voice that's been sent to us, where no one should be able to reach us... does that not seem _more_ than a little suspicious?" The inspector paused for a moment. "And even if it is your father, he was warning us _not_ to come after him... I suppose the hot-blooded Rebel translates that as _get there as fast as I can? "_

Luke's mouth tensed as he bit back a reply.

"You are rushing into this like a blind loth-bat, Luke. You know very well this could be a trap."

Behind them near the cockpit's entrance, Artoo turned his rounded top to Thanoth and made a series of beeps.

Thanoth grumbled and rubbed the bruise on his temple. "No one asked you, blasted machine."

"You're _wrong,"_ Luke interjected quietly. "We _lost_ the Imperials. You said you checked us for tracers with your monocle and didn't find anything. It can't be a trap."

"But how could your father have contacted us out of nowhere in the middle of the Unknown Regions? The _Devastator,_ if that's where he's imprisoned, can't be in the Outer Rim now. The travel time doesn't add up."

"You thought my father was dead until you got that message from 'out of nowhere'," Luke pointed out. "Who knows what... what has happened to him, or where he is now, how he got there." Luke felt his throat become dry, his mouth straining as he spoke. "Maybe he's... been trying to escape all this time. Maybe he's been trying to reach us... until he was captured again by Vader."

The image of the black skeletal mask rose in his mind. He felt his insides change, as if they were shrinking up within him. Luke looked at the ceiling, waiting for Thanoth to speak, wanting to get his mind off the grisly possibilities running through his head. His father, a captive for twenty years...

"Well," the inspector sighed again. "I suppose theorizing will get us nowhere... and I cannot argue that Anthan 13 is... an intriguing lead, at the very least. It is a place your father visited before, I know that much. Remote, uninhabited... Yes, how _overly-convenient._ And I will remain skeptical of all this until we see for ourselves. _Someone_ here must deal with the facts."

"Then deal with this fact: we're _going,_ and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Oh, quite the contrary, Luke." Thanoth leaned over and pointed at the viewport. "We're not going _._ We're there."

A brief bleep was sounding on the navicomputer, and Luke saw they were returning to normal speed. The torrent of hyperspace was scattering into light beams, and soon they dissipated into stars and darkness. The silvery moon of Anthan 13 was before them.

Luke let out a breath.

 _I'm coming, father. Just hold on... Hold on, and I promise you Vader won't win this time._

The landing was rough. On top of the damage already inflicted on the ship, the stabilizers also proved almost useless, and Luke had found it hard to balance the sporadic drag and thrust upon descent. All three of them were thrown hard to the left as the pod ended up positioned on its side, nearly tumbling over. The TIE powered down and was still, leaving a faint whiff of smoke in the cockpit.

Waving it off, Luke quickly recovered and got up. He managed to prop open the hatch door and leapt down from the elevated pod, jumping over the stacked wings. The cold air touched his face and his boots hit the ground.

He walked a few feet to observe his surroundings: it wasn't freezing, but it was a dry, cold environment. He saw paths of rock leading to dark mountains in the distance, capped with slush-like snow.

He heard Thanoth's footsteps crunching on the icy mounds behind him. He heard the older man grunting.

"Well... any landing you can 'walk away from' _,_ as they say," he said, sounding only half-assured. He noisily cleared his throat. "And no need to fret, young Luke. I'm not injured. No assistance required, thanks."

Luke rolled his eyes and turned to him, about to apologize, but Artoo suddenly appeared between them. He sank from midair with his rocket boosters and settled on the ground. Thanoth frowned accusingly down at the droid.

"I'm... sure _Artoo_ won't mind if you want to lean on him as you walk," Luke said, and held back a grin as Thanoth grimaced and Artoo rolled away, clearly miffed.

Luke looked around again. The region was more or less empty. The sky had a faint violet afterglow of a dawn or evening. He looked anxiously at Thanoth, who stared back with a solid gaze. Luke took a step towards him.

"Well, inspector... I think we can both agree that there's something you owe me."

Thanoth nodded, almost hanging his head. "Indeed."

Artoo, rolling steadily away, brought out his radar. It spiraled out of his dome for a few seconds, until he made an electric squeal. He turned to the humans, bobbed back and forth to get their attention.

"What is it?" said Luke, jogging towards him. He listened to the droid, then looked to the north-west, where there was a formation of crystalline caves. "That way? The signal's coming from there?"

The droid bleeped lightly.

"Good job," said Luke, his eyes now set in that direction, as if refusing to look at anything else. His black-gloved fingers pointed at the droid.

"Thanoth," he said, still pointing and not averting his gaze.

He heard the inspector make a harsh sound, like a scolding sigh, but he walked towards the droid, his legs staggering slightly. Artoo, comprehending, opened his chest compartment, revealing the grey, encased safe inside.

Thanoth hunched down to it. "Deactivate advanced setting, ultra."

The small lights on the container died out, and the motor-like hum stopped. Thanoth reached out and opened the door-lock. He soon stood up and held out Luke's lightsaber. The young man accepted the weapon, wrapped it in his hand. A bloom of comfort warmed inside him as once again held the weapon, and he met the gaze of the inspector for a moment. Thanoth watched him, calm and discerning, without emotion. Luke nodded a silent thanks to him. He attached the hilt to his belt.

Then without a word, he dashed back to the ship. When he returned, he was carrying the stormtrooper helmet.

"For protection," he said hastily as Thanoth gave him a shrewd look. Luke fit it over his head and spoke through the vocoder. "Stay here. This is something I have to do alone."

Thanoth furrowed his eyebrows, his lips pressed in. "Are you... certain about that? I admit I'm rather useless with a blaster, but to go in there alone—"

Artoo made a braying noise, his colored lights flickering. Luke patted the droid's head.

"I've put you through enough, both of you... Just stay here, stay low, and keep an eye on things. And... maybe see if you can fix up the ship." Seeing the unconvinced, eyebrow-knitting look on Thanoth's face, he added, "I still have my comm if I need you."

But the little droid continued to object.

"I said _no,_ Artoo. It's _my_ father, _I_ should be the one to go. And if Vader's in there too... someone... has to fight him." Luke clenched his teeth, a lump in his throat, and he eyed his lightsaber.

Artoo let out a depleted groan as Luke walked past him. The young man looked back at the droid and the inspector for a moment. Artoo let out a loud whistle, wishing him good luck. Thanoth looked back at him, his aged face somber as ever, though Luke thought he saw a trace of uncertainty in his lidded brown eyes.

Luke waved at them, his chest whirling with a mix of dread and resolve, and he was glad the helmet concealed his face; his jaw was trembling. He turned his back to Thanoth and Artoo and walked on, toward the direction of the cave.

The glacier formations shimmered, engulfing Luke in a mist of blue. Looking from the stretching gap of the cave's entrance, he saw it was deep black inside. Luke adjusted his helmet's vision enhancer, the screen showing the path ahead. There were sleek eroded curves along the walls and rock patches across the hollow structure. Ice needles hung overhead. He tried to move slow and not cause any vibrations, quietly migrating in the darkness.

Luke grasped his lightsaber in his hand, ready to press the ignition button. In this quiet confinement, he found his thoughts wandering. The danger, the anticipation of what awaited him, the thought of what could happen...

If he succeeded, he'd finally find his father...

His father. Who had been imprisoned by Darth Vader...

He had heard of the kinds of torture done to prisoners of the Empire, tales of even the most loyal Rebels cracking, and the slim chances of anyone resisting or surviving if they were in Vader's grasp. He still remembered when Leia had briefly mentioned her own imprisonment by Vader; her face had been calm and her voice even as she spoke, the same as it was whenever she recounted any report, but the chilling wave he'd picked up from her had spread over him, into him, sinking into his bones.

Could he even imagine what his father had suffered in _two decades?..._ He couldn't fathom why Vader would keep him prisoner for so long, much less what kind of state his father could be in... What if Luke couldn't save him? What if he had come too late?

Luke couldn't stand these thoughts. They circulated within him like a sickness. He remembered the desperate voice in the distress call. He tried to picture the man who spoke them, his father, the image he'd carried since meeting Obi-Wan: a fearless man, a Jedi Knight bearing a bright grin, wielding a blue blade, ready for any adventure that might await him... that was the Anakin Skywalker that Ben described.

His father would _not_ be broken. His father could _not_ be dead. He had survived this long, and would remain strong. After all, his father was a Jedi.

 _But I'm not,_ Luke thought. _And if I didn't stand a chance against Vader before..._

Memories resurfaced in his mind: that corridor on Cymoon 1, where he'd been drawn to that sinister presence in the factory, and then suddenly he'd found himself face-to-face with _him_. He had been more than ready to fight that day, his lightsaber alight in his hands.

 _You hold that weapon like an untrained child. You have no right to it. You, boy, are_ no _Jedi._

He had been so certain that he could kill him, finally end this evil. Avenge Ben. Avenge...

 _I've killed very many fathers... You'll have to be more specific._

And when he'd charged at Vader in fury, aiming to cut the black-armored man in half, he was swatted to the ground with the slightest motion of Vader's hand. Humiliated, defeated. A joke.

Vader's words had stalked him since that meeting, repeating in his head whenever he fought with the Jedi weapon. He knew he had only survived that encounter because of his friends' interference, just as he had only escaped Vrogas Vos with their help... Just as he had only managed to destroy the Death Star with Ben's guidance...

Luke jumped; there was a sharp, metallic clang. It sent out a ringing echo. He swept his gaze to look around, seeing nothing but a collection of pools and drops falling into them. The sound came again, but now repeated — like metal being dragged across the floor. Luke darted after the noise, climbed through a narrow passage.

Ahead he saw a faint glow of light. Luke hesitated a moment, then neared closer, and ducked behind a formation of stalagmites. He peeked past them... and could not believe what he saw.

Sitting in the light was a person in a robe. His face was covered by a tattered hood. His breathing was hoarse and frail. The chains that bound his wrists rattled as he tried in vain to move.

Thunder pounding in his chest, Luke leapt out. He bounded towards him, tripping on the stone floor he did so. He crept on his hands and knees and pushed off his helmet. The hooded head turned at him and let out a gasp.

 _"Father—"_ Luke said breathlessly, his heart stricken. Luke reached out to touch his shoulder. "I... It... It's me, it's Luke! I'm here, I... I'll help you—"

He fumbled, his hands shaking as he grasped the lightsaber, ready to cut through the chains.

There was a mothion, and Luke stopped. One of the shackled hands gripped his wrist. Bewildered, Luke jerked his head and stared. From under the hood, he saw a lightly-whiskered chin below a scowling mouth.

"Yes, you will," said the man. His voice was young.

Luke stared, wide-eyed. A sullen dread pulsed through him. His veins turned cold.

He quickly tried to turn on his lightsaber. It was smacked out of his hand. The hooded man rose, the shackles falling loose from him with ease, and he pushed Luke back. Luke found himself being slammed against the cave wall. His face stung against the cold stone. Then he was being pulled away, his arms held tight behind him.

There was a sudden burst: the unmistakable sound of a lightsaber. The man held a fiery orange blade close to Luke's neck as he held him. Luke staggered, tasting a trace of blood in his mouth and feeling the hint of the lightsaber's intense heat on his skin.

"A _Jedi,"_ he gasped in dismay. "You're... you're a Jedi! Why—"

"Move and you die," the man growled from behind him. "You were stupid enough to come here alone, so you'd more than deserve it."

Luke gritted his teeth. He tried to wrench himself free, kicking and struggling to move. He swung one of his arms loose.

"You _idiot,"_ the other man hissed as he kept hold of him, and he held out his lightsaber as it wavered dangerously from Luke's movements. "Stop it or I'll _cut your head off_ —"

Another blade shot from out of the shadows. Luke stopped. Green light was blazing inches away from his face, and he saw a blonde girl in a robe standing before him, holding out the lightsaber. Her eyes seemed inhumanly bright in the dark.

A sharp pain was delivered to the back of his head, and Luke felt himself blacking out. Before he had completely drifted out of consciousness, he could hear the girl's voice:

"Cylo, we have him. We have Skywalker."

—

* * *

 _—_

Luke's eyes opened.

Bumps rose on his skin and he inhaled the cold air. He was facing a blinding light, and blinked several times as it pierced through his eyelids.

He bent his neck and saw he was lying down on a table, his arms, legs, and midsection strapped down under integrated manacles. He tried to move, to wriggle his limbs, but it was no use.

What had _happened?..._

His thoughts were scattered, his brain stirring with white noise, and Luke felt his head throb. He let out a groan.

Looking around, he could see he was in some kind of medical center, one that looked very state-of-the-art. The room was broad and well-lit, with different kinds of equipment around him, including a capsule of bacta and, in a corner, a console on a stand. There were two monitors to the side, one that was displaying wave-like patterns, and one that showed a wire-frame display of a human body.

A floating object suddenly appeared from behind the console. Luke winced. It was a droid of some kind, grey-plated, with a large blue receptor. It was soundless, not humming or making any noise as it hovered over to him. Luke held his breath as it flew steadily closer and closer.

From behind the console, a woman appeared. She stood up and stepped away from it, and from his horizontal position Luke saw her approach. She seemed to be wearing eye-gear that beamed the same blue as the droid's. She had orange hair held back and, to Luke's dismay, he saw she wore an Imperial uniform. She kept her hands behind her back as she made her way towards him.

"Drone four: to me," she said, her voice carried in a high-pitched monotone.

The machine obeyed. It went to the woman and stayed near her, trailing behind as she moved.

She came closer, and pressed some buttons. Luke found the table was tilting, bringing him up until he was able to look at her face-to-face. Upon closer inspection, he couldn't help but screw his face at the sight of her. Her eye-gear wasn't being _worn_ ; it was implanted in her eye sockets, the skin around the lenses scarred and wrinkled like the skin was cracked. The sides of her skull bore mechanical bulks. Her face, what was shown of it, was devoid of emotion as she looked at him.

"So then... you are conscious," she said matter-of-factly. "Circulation and heart rate appear normal, with the dosage you were given... A quick recovery. But _of course_ it would be."

The bite of sarcasm sounded strange in her hollow voice. Luke felt incredibly uneasy as her beaming blue eye-caps set on him.

"Who... are _you?"_ he rasped, his voice sounding so weak he himself didn't recognize it. "You're... You work for... the Empire?"

She said nothing. She brought out her gloved hands and crossed her arms.

Luke narrowed his eyes. "Where am I? What _is_ all this?" "

There was no response, just the sound of the synth-leather fingers writhing as she tapped her arm.

"My father..." Luke heaved, his voice making a slight quiver. "Anakin... Skywalker... Where _is he?"_

She turned away from him and went to a table. She pressed more buttons, opened a compartment. Luke's eyes enlarged when she came back: she was holding a needle.

Without a word, she jabbed it into his arm. Luke cringed, unable to resist. He felt fluid being injected into him as the plunger was pressed down. She took the needle out and observed the sprinkled fluid still left in the tube.

"I am Tulon Voidgazer," she said offhandedly. "And you... _you_ are an utter waste of a life-form."

He made a questioning grunt, and squeezed his watering eyes; his body was already becoming affected with a burning limpness.

"Molecular garbage." She pursed her lips, and her shoulders seemed to tense up. A shudder seemed to run through her, as if she was suppressing herself from doing something more, something violent.

Luke was perplexed, but determined to show he wasn't intimidated. "I can tell you right now... if you're with the Empire... I'm _not_ going to talk. If you think you can drug me, or torture anything out of me... you're wrong."

"I am never wrong," she dismissed. She checked on the functioning monitors. "I am a chemist with knowledge of thousands of narcotics and toxins in this galaxy. Any secret you ever kept would be mine if I wanted you to reveal it. Choice would _not_ be a factor."

"I'm _not_ going to tell you anything. Believe it or not... I've survived worse things than a lab lady holding a syringe."

Voidgazer's hand thumped down on the table, shaking the utensils. She took a step towards him, the drone floating after her, its bright orb watching him.

"At the moment..." she said, the words dragging out as if she was forcing them. "I am only _weakening_ you. You are to be kept alive. For now. But when the time comes..." She inhaled. She then rose a gloved hand and reached out. Luke felt a rising panic as her rubber fingers sprawled out and hovered towards his neck.

"When you do die, I will be there," Voidgazer seethed out. "And your powers... your mighty _Force_... it will not help you. No cosmic spell or stroke of luck will lend a hand. Not this time."

Luke could only stare at her, numbly shake his head.

"You thought it would lead you to greatness, this so-called 'power of the Force'. So special, so beyond the depths of any man-made phenomenon. But now look at you; helpless, held here at my mercy. Now you are only a means to an end. You are nothing. _Nothing_."

Luke felt a rush of helplessness; pointlessly, he pushed his head against the table. The corners of Voidgazer's mouth spanned out, her face contorting, the scars on her face deepening.

"You have _no idea_ what you've done, do you?" she whispered. "All that's been lost. The deaths of so many bright, brilliant minds... at the hands of a _boy_. A stupid, superstitious—"

 _"Voidgazer,"_ another voice broke in, "back away from him."

Luke lifted his head. At the door stood a man. Voidgazer paused at his presence. She looked back at Luke, then let out a tight scoff and clenched her gloved hand. She withdrew from Luke, but kept her gaze on him.

The man made his way towards them. He had a stout face, greying beard, and gave off an air of wealth, wearing a blue coat with a decorative collar and a neckerchief tucked into it. As he man came closer, Luke noticed he, too, had an optic oddity: a large black alien eye on the right side of his face with green-scaled skin attached. It blended in with his own pale flesh as if it had grown there.

Luke felt himself recoil. He had come across many strange, abnormal beings in his time, both on his missions with the Rebellion and his life on Tatooine, but this man gave him a different kind of anxiety, something that was beyond the surface. There was a strange feeling coming off him. A cold, thirsty static.

The alien-eyed man scanned Luke over, his mouth an impassive line, his middle-aged face seeming all but inflexible.

"So," he said, his accent sharp and sibilant. "This is him, then."

 _"Who are you people?"_ Luke spat out, too angry to care about this stranger's eerie vibe. "Where am I? _Tell me what is going on!"_

"Yes, I'm sure you must be confused." The man smirked. "I am Doctor Cylo. And you... well, you are many things, aren't you? Rebel hero, pilot, would-be Jedi—"

"Murderer," Voidgazer commented loudly.

Cylo regarded her with a bored blink, then returned his attention to Luke, who swallowed uneasily.

"Obviously," Cylo said, keeping his tone light, "you can guess what Voidgazer here thinks of you. Many of her friends worked on the Death Star, and were killed along with it... I thought the least I could do is allow her the chance to face the person responsible. Conduct her own experiments. A specimen, so strong in the Force, is a worthy subject."

Horrorstruck, Luke looked at him, at Voidgazer, at the medical equipment. _"Experiment?"_

"What else? Nature makes all kinds of mysteries, and a scientist seeks to unravel and utilize them. You wouldn't understand, of course. You're too ignorant, too brainwashed with the Force mysticism... but you can still add something to the cause. You can still be of some value to this galaxy's evolution."

"What are you _talking about?_ What _is_ all this? Those Jedi, in the cave — what _happened_ to them?"

 _"Not_ Jedi," Cylo pointed out, as if taking offense to Luke's remark. "Definitely _not_ Jedi. Cyber-enhanced beings, of my making. Superior fighters in every way, certainly better than Force-worshipping wizards. I'm sorry to break it to you, but the era of the Jedi passed a long time ago. They're dead, and destined to be forgotten forever."

"No, he's — _T_ _he_ _Jedi are not dead!_ There's still —"

Luke stopped, suddenly silenced. A knot seemed to build in him, entwining, carrying a vague comprehension that seemed to spread through him, yet he couldn't quite untangle it, couldn't understand what it meant.

Voidgazer made a distasteful sigh. She turned and walked back to the console. Cylo remained, looking at Luke with a strange mix of keen interest and indifference, as if he was watching a mildly entertaining holovid.

"Nothing like naivete to bring a plan fully together," he remarked slowly. He strolled to one of the machines and observed a processing screen. "Having a nano droid tail Vader's adjutant... who'd have thought it would yield such results? Why, we had to drop everything, even leave a war, once we got word about _you_. The opportunity was just too absurdedly good. Granted the technology isn't perfect, we lost you at some points, almost lost a probe droid in the Setera system when we sent that 'distress call' to point you in the right direction... But trust me, we learned enough about you, Luke Skywalker."

Luke ground his teeth as the words settled over him. He pressed in his eyes, his insides roiling, his stomach turning. The knot inside him tightened.

"It just shows what baseless beliefs can get you, when you are blinded by them," Cylo persisted. "You thought there was one Jedi left, you believed it, just like you believed the claim that your father was alive. You believed the inspector, the message we sent you. You fell for it all, because you _wanted_ it to be true."

Luke froze up. Now the knot uncoiled and understanding spread through him, seized him like he was an insect in a giant's grip.

 _"Thanoth..."_ he whispered. He pressed his eyes shut, dug his teeth into his lip. _"He lied..._ He lied about... It was all just..."

"Not quite."

Luke lifted his head. Cylo stood there across him, his palm on the steely top of a device, as if it were a pet lingering at his side. A smile began to grow on his face as he watched Luke, clearly savoring as he simmered in confusion.

"Your father _was_ a Jedi," Cylo said, as if explaining something to a child. "And he is still alive."

Luke gaped at him. His heart brightened.

"That is, if you could call it that." The scientist held his thin-bearded chin between his fingers. "Hard to tell these things, you know. Even a genius can have trouble determining something that should be so clear-cut, in certain cases... The boundary between life and death. The line between technology and nature. Creation and destruction. Man and machine."

He set his mismatched gaze on Luke, who stared at him, nonplussed, incredulous.

"But that distinction shall not matter for much longer," the scientist went on. "You won't live long enough to see the future, but your father... he will understand that it is inevitable, if only just _second_ s before his death."

 _"No!"_ Luke roared. He struggled again under the tight manacles. "You can't! You... _can't..."  
_

Cylo ignored him and headed toward the door. Luke scowled. He pressed against the tight-fitting restraints, pressed with all his remaining strength, ignoring the pain, the exhaustion, the numbness...

This... _couldn't_ be happening...

Cylo waved a finger, signaling for Voidgazer to follow. The white doors parted, and with one last piercing glare at Luke, Voidgazer proceeded through them. Cylo turned to follow her.

"Traps upon traps upon traps," he murmured, his back facing Luke as he remained there for a moment. "Even if he doesn't come, you're a valuable prisoner to me, and to the Empire. But he'll come for you, I'm sure, just as you came for him. Whatever his intentions, he won't be able to resist the bait. If anything, he won't want to let _me_ win, especially in something he failed to do."

He stepped forth to pass through the doors.

"And how fitting would it all be... You meet your end trying to save your father. Vader meets his end trying to save his son. Obtuse irony at its best."

With that, the doors slid shut and Cylo was gone.

And so was Luke's reality as he knew it.


	9. Chapter 9

"I have waited long enough. Show me the recordings."

The bridge of the _Devastator_ was busy, teeming with attendants and officers, active on the decks or huddled in their compact pit stations below. Some of the navigation officers glanced at each other nervously, trying to not be distracted from their work as the Dark Lord and the Grand General spoke above them.

Tagge looked up at the Dark Lord indiscriminately, his arms folded. He turned away, observing a nearby hologram that showcased the surrounding starfleet.

"As I told you, Lord Vader, the footage is being detained. It is _evidence._ The ISB has been reviewing it to collect any further material that may be of use with the investigation. Surely you see the prudence in this."

Vader stepped forward. As if sensing his aggravation, Tagge hastily added, "Although it isn't _proficient..._ I shall have the workforce copy the data and send it to you. Since you so obviously _cannot_ wait."

Vader stared down at the pouch-faced man for a moment.

"Have the copied recordings forwarded to my quarters when ready. Inform me immediately if anything is found regarding Cylo or the Rebel."

With slow grinding steps, Vader turned and headed out the exit. He walked down the halls, aiming to reach his private chamber. Some meditation might prove useful in clearing his head, in finding answers...

Before meeting with Tagge, he had met with his master. It had been pointless indolence as expected, Sidious speaking to him about the history of the Sith, the stability of the Empire... among other things. He'd given Vader his meager excuse for having favored Cylo all this time — apparently the scientist was too influential and could cause a schism of the scientific minds in the Empire otherwise...

To add to this, his master also casually revealed that Cylo was among those who had helped to rebuild his body, all those years ago...

Vader had not known that any livings beings had been involved in that... process; he had remembered only droids, only machines — and Sidious. Any personnel had to have been merely observant, hands-off scientists, designers, technicians, all kept in the dark, or terminated to avoid any sensitive information from leaking.

Or so he would've presumed. Now Vader had to consider that Cylo could possibly know of him. His past. Who he used to be. Cylo, with his resources, their rivalry, and now in light of this... The connections certainly made sense with Cylo's obsession with cybernetics and surpassing Vader by building these newer "models"... Vader remembered something the Rodian-eyed man had once told him, that day he discovered him and his creations:

 _In many ways, these are your children._

As if he needed more reasons to want Cylo dead.

The Emperor had then concluded with how much he valued Vader as his "true apprentice", never mind that he'd given Cylo and his creations free reign to eliminate him, to replace him, had withheld so much vital information from him throughout the years...

 _If any of Cylo's toys had succeeded... you would be making this speech to them._

So he had said to his master. The old man had stared back, not angrily, not coldly. Not uttering any word. For truly, what could he have said?

Sidious had finally let him go, and Vader had returned to his Star Destroyer. Tagge's specialists were trying to weed out any of Cylo's associates within the Empire, as well as trying to reach Cylo's base. The navigation crew was on the lookout for any special sightings of suspicious vessels approaching the _Devastator_.

Tagge had objected to not taking greater action, claiming that more effort should be spent on locating Thanoth and the disguised Rebel — Tagge had supported Cylo in the Shu-Torun war, and no doubt his treason reflected poorly on him; he wanted to pretend it was less important. But he had complied when Vader told him it was the Emperor's will, that they needed leads on the enemy who was _actively_ trying to escape them, not the one heading their way.

Thankfully, there was no news about the Rebel and Thanoth. Tagge had informed him that the ISB found that certain security units had been tampered with, resulting in visuals and auditory footage that wasn't the best quality. Vader had insisted on viewing the recordings, but even this was met with delays. Tagge had the authority to refuse him any data he saw fit, and as usual the bureaucratic man was keen on keeping whatever clout he could over the Dark Lord.

So Vader had no choice but to wait for results, boil in his frustration, meditate on things and hope the Force showed him something. He despised the waiting, but at the very least it gave him time to center himself, to dwell on things...

He accessed the door of his quarters and strode inside. With a wave of his hand, the dark room brightened as the giant dome of his meditation chamber powered on. The square hatches unsealed and opened. He proceeded into the white encasement and seated himself. The orthogonal interlocks shut the outside air out. The chair whirled around with the press of a button, and he leaned his head back. The familiar devices turned on, pincer-like mechanisms extending, reaching out to grasp his helmet and mask.

He closed his eyes as the weight lifted. The magnetized seal of the helmet depressurized, releasing the neurological needles from his scalp. The mask lifted away with an emitting hiss, and his deep, artificial breath was gone.

Vader inhaled, hearing the weak rasp that came from what remained of his natural throat. Removing his mask often helped with meditation, in clearing his thoughts and seeing things clearly for what they were.

He had to deal with Cylo's treachery. He should have been trying to discover any of Cylo's locations himself, thinking of strategies to deal with the scientist and his followers. There was so much he could be doing...

Yet in these past few hours... he was left with questions about the boy, too many questions. His mind was swollen with them, rummaging with one possibility after another... And he wondered about the two droids he'd sent. They must have been nearing the Setera system by now... He'd given them specific directions, still had secret means to communicate with them if need be, but he knew the risk he would be taking in doing so.

And the risk in sending them in the first place. He had had no other choice for the position he was in, but to think that so much depended on these two homicidal machines with questionable obedience... They had to find the boy and Thanoth before the Imperial forces did. If Tagge caught them first, there was no telling what could happen; he knew Tagge's orders were to have the Rebel pilot captured dead or alive...

It was out of his hands. He'd done what he could. There was no time to waste worrying about what could happen. He had to find Cylo now, that was his mission.

He opened his eyes, diverted by the sudden sound of a signal coming from his built-in console — the recordings. Tagge had transferred them quicker than he thought. His datascreen flashed, and he quickly received the upload. Within seconds, it began to play.

Uncolored images appeared, that from a security cam. It indeed showed Thanoth, limping alongside an alleged stormtrooper, who looked slightly shorter than most. An astromech droid followed them. Cuts of the video showed the so-called trooper blasting through doors, the droid deactivating locks and barriers, all three of them running from patrolmen. Thermionic footage showed what looked like a TIE Defender taking off and being pursued.

The footage cut to the dark environment of a storage room. There was no sound, but Vader could discern movement: a storm of lasers sped past, shot by a man in an Imperial uniform. His target was a young man in trooper armor but without the helmet, and Vader instantly recognized the face of his son. He watched closely as the uniformed man aimed at him, his shots frantic, the boy dodging, wrestling with him, getting grazed and pushed back. The boy finally shot back at the last moment, forced to choose between killing or being killed.

Interesting, if predictable...

The screen then showed the boy unsealing the lid of a crate. Thanoth and the droid emerged from it, and the three of them left.

Vader scrolled to the rest of the data; there were a few sound recordings available. Information tapped in, notes by the ISB team: _Suspect is human. Male. Young adult. Outer Rim accent._

Two voices came through. Thanoth and the boy were conversing.

 _"Soon as we get to the spaceport, we find an Imperial craft that can get us into that Star Destroyer. If you're really Vader's adjutant, you should be able to get us aboard his flagship no problem... right?"_

Vader frowned. So the boy knew of Thanoth's connection to him... There was no sign of him being threatened or coerced in any way by Thanoth, or vice versa. They were clearly working together.

Why? What could be the reason behind their alliance? What did the boy hope to achieve by cooperating with his adjutant, by planning this ludicrous attempt to infiltrate his flagship? For a moment he considered that the boy meant to assassinate him. Vader bitterly remembered the boy's delusional belief that he had murdered his father, a lie planted by Kenobi no doubt... He could still distinctly remember the hate radiating from the youth when they met on Cymoon 1...

Still, to go to such lengths to enact revenge... surely the boy would not be that foolish...

And then there was Thanoth's motivation. Why did he help the boy? How much did he know? If he knew the boy was his son... had he actually dared to _tell_ him? He had gone to great measures to keep his son's identity a secret, it was vital to his plans. Thanoth had been made his adjutant by Tagge; if he knew, why then had he not informed Tagge of all this?

The idea of someone knowing, the thought of the young one finding out through someone other than him... it was... disconcerting. _No one_ could know about the boy. The inspector was out of line regardless, he decided. Traitor or not. Whatever his reasoning, whatever he knew. He would pay for all of this.

Glowering, Vader paused the screen with the lift of a finger, and an image of Thanoth froze. He was standing in a dim hall not far behind the boy, looking calm but alert.

"You thought... you could interfere..." The words left his mouth with only a hint of sound. "Your inquisitiveness will be your undoing... I will make sure of it."

Vader let out a steep breath, his leather-clad fingers scraping the arm of the chair. The boy was out there, coming to him. _Coming to him,_ without any battles, without any Imperial business or interference from his Rebel companions. As much as he wanted to destroy Cylo, as much as he hated answering to Tagge, they were only obstructions in his path, ones that were not meant to last for long. Finding his son was the most important goal, for his plans, for himself.

And despite this, he could do nothing but sit here, powerless to grasp such an opportunity...

Vader played the footage again, reevaluating it, trying to find anything else worth noting. A word, a location, a movement, any telling details. Nothing helped to answer the many questions crowding his mind.

Sinking into the Force, he let his thoughts unravel. Though his frustration was far from spent, he let it feed his effort to concentrate. To peer into the Force, see the possibilities that lay in the future...

They were infinite, ever distant. There were only faint hints, murky visions of a shimmering presence, and a snarl of events unfolding around it. Vader tried, kept searching, pushing to see more clearly... But it all remained vague, like whispers underground. The future was unyielding to him.

Anger stirred in his chest, a flare of desperation needling its way through — he barred himself from feeling it. Instead he sought elsewhere, to be in that place he knew and imagined, apart and within himself. Where he saw himself in the future of the Force...

And as if fulfilling his wishes, it poured itself upon him: he saw red. A whole galaxy of red. _His_ galaxy.

He saw himself, Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Vader, black-cloaked, black-masked, standing amongst it all, the stars blinking in the distance. Fleets, warships, and Death Stars aplenty, all mere tools for his use. Worlds that were mere specks cast in his shadow. Destruction, creation, and power beyond measure. At last, his... The galaxy was _his_ to rule.

And in the distance below was the young one, standing as if at the foot of invisible stairs. His presence was vivid and golden in the Force. His face held no emotion, but confusion emanated from his being. He looked around him, aimless and lost in the crimson chaos.

Vader stood still. He reached out to him.

 _Come with me._

The young gaze met his, a familiar set of sea-blue eyes that were piercing among the blood-scarlet around them. There was understanding in those eyes. Acceptance.

The boy extended his arm, trying to reach him. Effortlessly they drew closer and closer, the Force bridging them, and Vader's hand was inches from his.

 _This will be our future. Our galaxy._

Vader's leather fingers could almost touch the boy's —

Then it all stopped; there was a high-pitched sound, and the boy, the power, the galaxy awash in red, it fell away.

Vader opened his eyes, inhaling, causing his throat to throb with pain. The vision vanished, swallowed up like a vortex, back into the darkness. Loathing filled him, and he looked at his gloved hand. It was shaking. The aggregation of metal and wires was as cold and unfeeling as ever, but the artificial joints twitched convulsively.

The noise continued in its irritating cycle, and Vader smashed his fist on the panel to make it stop. He let himself adjust back to reality, and instinctively drew upon the dark side to do so, to channel his anger.

The sound was coming from the transmission's display of his console. He eyed it, and saw a holographic call was on hold... one through the Imperial Network, directed to his private reception. Curious...

Annoyed but intrigued, he called the automatic devices once again, holding still as they returned his mask and helmet to him. When he was fully donned, he pushed the button and accepted the message.

From the holo-projector, a specter-like image appeared.

"Inspector Thanoth here. Calling from Anthan 13."

Taken aback, Vader saw the image of the old, monocled inspector, who looked back at him anxiously, his form bent and hunched.

 _"You..."_ Vader hissed, loud and scathing, and he leaned forward, clenching his fists down on the console. "Thanoth... You _dare_ to _—"_

"Lord Vader — I'm sure we have much to discuss, but _now_ is not the time." Thanoth's tone was rushed and impatient, a hard frown forming behind his mustache. "I am communicating through this ship's system, and the Astarte twins are out searching for me at this very moment. There is very little time — Cylo is _here,_ Vader. _Cylo has the boy."_

 _—_

* * *

 _—  
_

 _The twins suns were setting._

 _They blazed over the cloudless atmosphere of Tatooine, two balls of fire in a dusky haze. Their different colors cast on the desert, yellow and orange, and all was still and hot below. Vaporators perched like spindly towers among the stretches of sand. The gorges were overshadowed in the far distance, and there was no wind across the Jundland Wastes._

 _On the midpoint of the salt flat sat the modest homestead, a round, whitish dome settled in fading light._

 _Luke stood by it, leaned against the pourstone-made dwelling. He remembered how his uncle would often remind him that their home was handmade, built from the ground up by his father, that he had installed much of the machinery they still relied on, that he had been a hard-working man even after losing his ability to walk. He often told this to Luke, especially whenever his young nephew complained or put off his chores. It usually did the trick, motivating Luke to chin up and get his workload done._

 _But he remembered once, when he was eight or so and had heard this same old lecture one too many times, he'd said back to his uncle, "You tell me more about_ your _father then you do about mine!"_

 _Owen, strained after a long, backbreaking day, had looked angry for a moment. Then he just sighed, and simply said, "Luke... there's nothing to tell you."_

 _Luke now looked back to the binary sunset. The orange sun was hidden beneath the horizon, its lighter counterpart not far behind. Luke stepped away, staying close to the homestead, and he walked around to the entrance. The front was still bare and sturdy, the open tunnelway leading to the inside, same as he remembered it. But he had the vaguest feeling that something was off here. Something was missing._

 _He heard a sound: a murmur... some kind of voice that seemed to loom over him, beneath him, waiting and watching Luke like an omnipresent cloud. He tried to pretend it wasn't there. Maybe it wasn't, really. Maybe the sound was just the vaporators, acting up again._

 _"Luke."_

 _A robed figure approached him from the shadow of the homestead. Luke realized who it was, could see the white-bearded face beneath the pointed hood. Obi-Wan halted before him, and lifted the brown folds over his head._

 _"Luke," he said, his face the same kindly, composed one that Luke remembered, tanned and wrinkled — he looked so alive. B_ _en... here, no longer a ghostly voice in his head but a person, present and engaging with him._ _Luke took a step toward his friend._

 _Then he hesitated, and took a step back._

 _"Luke, you cannot stay here," Ben said, with a nudge of admonishment. "This place... is gone. They are gone. This is not real."_

 _Luke stared at him. Then, slowly, he pried his gaze away.  
_

 _"I... know," he said, but felt unmoved. This was all an illusion of memories. He'd known this; but Ben, he sensed, was somehow real. He himself was real. He didn't feel the same level of consciousness, but he knew he was undeniably himself, both of them manifested in a way he didn't understand._

 _Luke continued to watch the view of the one remaining sun. He didn't want to talk to Ben. He didn't want to listen. Right now he was just a farmboy on a backwater planet, and all he wanted to do was watch the sunset, illusion or not._

 _"Luke," Ben said more sharply. "You must listen to me. This time, you_ must _listen. I do not have much time, and you have only led yourself to greater danger by choosing this path, danger you cannot comprehend... You must survive this, Luke. You must escape!"_

 _The young man spared him a sidelong glance. He said nothing. He darted his gaze back to the horizon._

 _"The dark side is closing in, ready to welcome you," Ben went on, a strain in his voice. "Soon I may not even be able to speak to you at all. Luke, you_ _must wake up... and you must become a Jedi."_

 _"Jedi..." Luke uttered the word like an afterthought.  
_

 _"You must learn the ways of the Force. You must go—"_

 _"Ben... why... why didn't you tell me?"_

 _Silence. Ben said nothing, and Luke continued to look away. The desert evening was turning darker... Luke looked at the dwelling again; two burnt skeletons were now sprawled on the ground, surrounded by ash and debris. The roof was set with plumes of smoke._

 _Then suddenly darkness came in, so swift it was like a wave. It shrouded the homestead and engulfed it until it was gone. Then Luke and Ben were standing near a cluster of crumbled slabs and rocks: slanted remains of ancient walls, pillars, and Jedi monuments. The air was filled with yellow dust._

 _"You were not ready," he heard Ben say, repeating that familiar warning. Then Luke felt a hand rest on his shoulder, and Ben's own presence reaching out to him, seeking to ease the young man's many untold burdens._

 _Luke wanted to accept it, to find comfort from the friend he had so missed — but he faintly shook his head, a need building up within him to shield himself, to not listen to Ben. A man who's guidance he had relied on... Old Ben, spiriting him off the dirt-drudged Tatooine and taking him to a life of adventure in the stars... and giving him a reason to feel part of it all; the revelation of a father who had walked the same path, a Jedi Knight, one who died fighting the good fight._

 _That revelation had changed his life. Luke had always felt that he wasn't destined for the desolate life of a farmer... and with his aunt and uncle dead, there was nothing left but the dream to follow in his father's footsteps. He had wrapped himself in that dream like a garment — a treasure, proud and personal to him._

 _Now it was like the universe was laughing at him for ever having such a dream. It was stripped from him without warning, and in its place were illusions, followed by an unrelenting darkness — and a truth he wanted to ignore._

 _"My father." The words trembled out of him, and Luke turned and faced his departed friend, unable to fight the shrill tone in his voice. "It... It can't be true. He can't... Ben, he_ can't _be..."_

 _Ben's eyes seemed to dim. He removed his hand from Luke's shoulder, the brown sleeves swaying, and he drew back. His posture changed. He slouched, his face bearing a distant weariness._

 _"Your father... Anakin." Ben stopped for a moment, then made a hollow sigh. "He is as dead as I said he was. He ceased to exist, long ago."_

 _"No," Luke responded, recoiling as if stung. He paused_ _._ _Then, hating the words as he spoke them, he said,_ _"My father... Darth Vader... is alive."_

 _Around them, the same thriving darkness that had swept up Tatooine approached, and absorbed the temple remains in the barren landscape. In their place, a steely medical lab appeared, with monitors and blinking lights on display. A collection of needles were piled on a counter._

 _Luke was no longer standing. He was lying on a table, restrained, his head tilted towards the lamplight._

 _"I feel it," the young man rasped,_ _his face twisted in pain_ _. "I... know."  
_

 _Ben looked at him, blue-grey eyes creased in concern, and he took a step towards him, opened his mouth to speak — but he said nothing. Luke shook his head._

 _"Ben... why didn't you... why didn't you_ tell _me?..."_

 _The old man watched him, his gaze lit with compassion. He rose up a hand as if to quiet him._

 _"Luke. You must understand... Your father... Anakin... he was my friend. My student. He was a brave and good-hearted man... once. But he turned to the dark side, he chose it, gave himself to it. He became Darth Vader, a machine of evil, a destroyer devoid of any humanity. He could have saved the galaxy from imbalance and evil; instead he became part of it."_

 _The young man closed his eyes, leaned against the table, holding back the scream he longed to release.  
_

 _"I am sorry," Ben said with gentleness, but Luke felt prone to brush the words aside. His identity, his family, his trust, his hopes... all scathed in a needless whirl of lies.  
_

 _"_ _I meant to tell you someday,_ _" Ben went on quietly,_ _"when you were ready... But Luke, you_ _must understand that this need not change your destiny. Everything, the entire galaxy, is at peril. The Emperor, Vader... they must be defeated, Luke."_

 _Unbelieving, Luke stared at the old Jedi._

 _"Vader is Anakin's darkness," Ben went on, looking away from him, into the shadows. "He corrupted him, destroyed the goodness in him. He is only Vader now, Luke."_

 _Luke felt a stunned anger at this, felt the urge to respond — but found that he couldn't. There was a sudden shot of pain that was sent through him. It resounded deeply, differently... He hadn't felt this kind of pain before. It seemed to shatter through some barrier, connect him back to another existence... It was calling him back..._

 _His insides were compressed, a sharpness was in his blood. Luke felt a glaring light on his face, the lamplight, sweat collecting in the crevices of his collarbone...  
_

 _"Luke." Ben's voice was louder, more urgent, and Luke could see he was changing. His form was fading out, blending into an incoming brightness that was erasing everything. "You must listen to me, Luke, I beg you — you are our only hope — Luke, you must go to the da—"_

 _The light grew and grew, and Ben's shapeless form became lost in it. The light consumed everything. Everything became light._

Luke felt himself come out of it.

He became aware again. His body was tingling, feeling sore and malleable. The solid surface was propped up against his back, the constraints pressing him down, pressing the stormtrooper armor into his moist skin. All the unpleasant sensation was returning... The same light was hovering over him, making things hard to distinguish, but things were real, real and physical.

How long had it been? Hours? Days? He didn't have the strength to truly wonder. He only remembered flashes of the medical lab, of Cylo walking through the door, speaking to him... A few careless words tossed his way, the words settling, repeating, tearing Luke apart... and everything after was a blur.

Luke shivered.

He saw the figure of someone near, murmuring to someone else. And there was that familiar, skin-crawling static...

"Subject is conscious," he heard Voidgazer say in her dry voice. "Weakness and inflammation is noted, but no signs of resistance decrease. I suggest a thzolomite dosage."

There was a beeping sound, a shuffling, and the recognizable images of Cylo and Voidgazer came into view. They hovered over him, both huddled in discussion. There was a movement, and Luke felt the pang of a needle being pierced into his arm.

 _Ben..._ He tried to mentally call for his friend, pleading as much as he could despite the anger he still felt, despite this dazed state he was in... But he knew the old Jedi was gone. He was on his own.

Despondent, he tried to look around. His vision was distorted, like he was staring through bloated glass, but he could make out the stagnant sheen of tools in an array of silver and black. Appliances were flickering around him. He breathed in, taking in the bitter smell of rubber and sanitizer.

He heard the voices of the two scientists still conferring. Cylo made a tiresome sigh.

"No more," he asserted. "No more serums, no more drugs. His system is confounding the procedure, immune to the full affect... What are the results of the scan?"

"Scans are successful, but with anomalies. I've run the test several times, and each result surpasses the limit with immeasurable midi-chlorian detection. The micro-bionic extraction has been unsuccessful even at the most basic molecular level. Analysis of these cells has also proved inconclusive. The computers do not recognize the composite matter."

"Of course not. This is something else, something more... complex. A challenge for us... but the midi-chlorians are the key. These cultists can call it whatever they want, but it's biology. It's all about biology."

Luke tried to speak, but found nothing would come out of him. He made a wince, from the soreness, the exhaustion. He felt buried, he wanted to go back to... whatever he'd just left. Back to the sunset.

"...A pity we have limited time to study his responses," Cylo droned lowly in disappointment.

"I don't see why we don't terminate him now, Cylo. Dissection could help in trying to duplicate the midi-chlorians, if you're still planning on anatomic replication. And this theory of yours, to implement non-humanoid organic matter to confound the cells..."

"I adhere to it, but to be sure, we should keep him alive as long as possible. It would be quite compelling, actually... if we were to install the cyberanimate system. Imagine, complete control of a Force-sensitive... If only we had the time."

Voidgazer let out a stiff breath.

"Perhaps something _smaller,_ then," she suggested dryly. "What of sensory substitution? Control via one primary function."

There was a still pause between them, only the sounds of the machines purring, the devices whirring, and Cylo humming in thought.

"Very well," he said finally, making a handclap. "Droid, make the necessary preparations, and ready the utensils... We will start by removing the eye."


	10. Chapter 10

Just want to say thanks again to all who've read, faved, followed, and commented on this story, whether you're a user, lurker, anonymous reviewer, or someone on tumblr saying "Dude, update that fic"... Thank you all the same. :)

Now on with the chapter... Enjoy! _  
_

 _—_

* * *

—

Luke felt the blood drain from his face.

His heart pulsed at the swiveling sound of a device being turned on: an operation cleaver, bladed and rotating at top speed. He tried to yell or shout, but only managed a painful cough.

He could make out one droid hovering over him, pressing a hosed mask over his mouth, no doubt running with knock-out gas. A taller 2-1B droid was approaching, holding the drill-like utensil.

Again he tried to find the strength to fight it, to resist, but the weakness in his body was thorough. He could already feel the gas taking effect. His eyes began to droop. The faces of Cylo and Voidgazer were smearing like water, Voidgazer's blue orbs melting, the whole clinic becoming an array of blots...

"The right eye, I think," he heard Cylo say, his voice sounding distant, like he was at the end of a tunnel. "Hm, _still_ conscious... Sedate him."

A sharpness came to his neck — then a soothing heaviness coursed through Luke. He felt dispensed of energy, as if a pocketed part of his brain had been turned off. The blackness was taking him again... He wanted to give in to it, to sleep...

But underneath that desire was... something. A heat in his blood, in his heart, and it didn't dim down.

Luke felt something being sprayed into his right eye. It involuntarily watered from the irritation, flinched, and he squeezed both his eyes shut. The buzz of the bladed tool continued; it hissed in his ears, rang in his head.

It was coming closer... It was inches away from his face...

That heated spot in his heart pulsed, nourished by raw instinct...

The tool was right over his eye—

 _No!_

He felt a stream of energy; it swept through him, emerged freely, and sent itself out.

The mask over his mouth was whipped away. He heard crashes from across the room. Yelps, things thumping, falling, and metal clanking to the floor. Luke heaved, strangely invigorated. He felt the ripples of the energy roll around him, the raw power lingering around him, almost possessively, before suddenly going out like a spent flame. He opened his swelling eyes, blinking many times to see clearly.

He saw the droids on the floor, several feet away from him, turned over and moving their metal limbs in attempts to get up. The bladed device was still drilling away in the clutch of the 2-1B. Even farther away, he saw a bluish blur that suggested Cylo; he was on his back, his boots pressed to the ground. Toolkits, tables, and other equipment had been toppled over in the room. Luke couldn't see Voidgazer anywhere, but he heard her groan.

From the entrance, he heard the doors slide open and someone walk in.

"Cylo, the inspector is still missing, but we —Cylo? What happened?"

Luke recognized the voice: the robed man from the ice cave. He rushed inside, still wearing the brown cloak, now unhooded, revealing a red-headed young man with a stern, gaunt face. He hurried to Cylo, who was sitting up, gritting his teeth. Following the young man was the blond girl from the cave. She looked around the lab, surveying the scene in silence.

"...No harm done, Morit," Cylo muttered as the young man helped him up. He brushed down his clothing needlessly and looked over at Luke, who caught his gaze. Luke narrowed his eyes at him.

"Interesting," the scientist said, with an undertone of dismay. "A Force push, in such a weak condition, and no training..."

"Force push?" Morit echoed, sounding befuddled.

Luke himself couldn't help but momentarily wonder at the term. In the past he had felt the Force give him a boost in times of need, making his jumps a little farther, his speed a little faster... but he hadn't ever used the Force as a weapon, like some kind of explosive that could be triggered as a last resort. He hadn't even felt in control of himself...

The young man named Morit was scanning Luke over, his gaze cautious.

"Cylo, you want me to put an end to him?" he asked, and he patted something on his hip — the silver hilt of a lightsaber, dangling next to another. "I wouldn't mind trying out my _new_ weapon."

Luke glared at him. The other young man folded his arms and lifted his chin in response.

"That won't be necessary," Cylo replied in a calm tone. "He is... not dangerous. He must be kept alive a while longer."

Not far behind Cylo, Voidgazer was coming to her feet, leaning on a monitor and holding her shoulder. She was seething; Luke felt her hate, it aimed at him like a laser. For a moment he let himself feel some satisfaction, smugness even. He had used the Force. He had overpowered them, in this all-but-powerless state he was in, despite everything...

Or had he? Could it be... No, Ben was gone, he was sure of it...

"He must be so very _pleased_ with himself," Voidgazer sneered, taking a step towards him. "I'll bet he thinks it's beneath him, to be operated on, to be dissected. To die for science, for the sake of advancement." She scoffed, her lips pressed in a thin line. "You're _our_ _prisoner_ now, boy. We will take whatever we want from you. An eye, and arm, anything we want."

"Enough," Cylo said, holding up a hand before Voidgazer could say more. "We will cease further experimentation for the time being. We'll spare one more search for the inspector; after that, we leave the Anthan system. If Vader doesn't know where we are by now, he'll find out soon enough. Morit, Aiolin, continue the search. Droids..." He glanced at the still-struggling machines on the floor with a frown. "Clean up this mess."

"And what about _him?"_ Voidgazer said, nudging her head toward Luke.

Cylo paused for a moment, as if considering something carefully.

"Leave him be," he said. "We have other matters to attend to. And Force or not, he is still immobilized. He's not going anywhere." Then he turned and headed towards the exit. Voidgazer sighed, but followed him, as did Morit, who kicked a container as he went. Maybe he was imagining it, but Luke thought he felt something different coming off of Cylo. A sapping of the doctor's bubble of confidence. Something that seemed very much like fear.

As they left, Luke let out a breath in relief. He let himself relax a little — then winced, feeling a pounding in his ears. His limbs were still numb, the unsettled nausea still lingering in his chest. For a moment, he almost felt the urge to vomit.

Then suddenly he became aware that the girl, apparently named Aiolin, was still in the room. She stood at the threshold of the door, staring at him. Bewildered, he looked back at her. He remembered how she appeared in the cave: her eyes bright, ice-cold, and her expression unreadable. She seemed much the same now. She did nothing and said nothing. She just stared at him.

Luke stared back, confused, not knowing what to make of this. Was this girl trying to unsettle him? Did she have some kind of vendetta against him, like Voidgazer? He tried to sense her intentions with the Force, but he picked up nothing from her... except... was it curiosity?

He wasn't sure, and had no time to find out. In a matter of seconds, the girl had headed toward the door and was gone.

—

* * *

—

Artoo tried to extend the field of his periscope from under the icy roof. His scanners were picking up nothing from the outside, no organic lifeforms or functioning technology, not within 900 yards — good. Meanwhile dusk was approaching, and the windblown snow continued to fall.

Beside him, huddled in the shaded enclosed space, sat the inspector. Thanoth ran his hands together and over his arms, floating them over the small fire flickering between them. His expression was grim and tired, his grey-green uniform wet and stained. Artoo sent out a series of bleak hums to him.

Thanoth scowled. _"Forgive_ me if it is hardly accommodating, droid." He coughed into his fist and shivered. "But they haven't _found_ us, have they? As I said, hiding under this cornice did the trick." The inspector huffed with some difficulty, and breathed out white mist. "The surrounding penitente formations combined with the underlying stone structure work well as a cover, naturally."

Artoo twisted his sphere head at him and rolled out a sarcastic bleep.

"And I suppose you have a _better_ idea?" shot the old inspector. "And do _not_ say we should just 'go after them'. You know we don't stand a chance against them, much less if we try to just tip-toe in to rescue Luke ourselves." The inspector pointed towards the opening gap of the icy burrow. "The snowfall is only getting thicker out there. The Astarte twins do have enhanced peripheral vision — that cannot measure up to the keen eye of _experience,_ of course—" He lifted his monocle with his thumb and forefinger, "—but I imagine their cybernetics won't hold up well to this weather. Not for much longer anyway."

Artoo's gem-like receptor flickered blue and red. He released a few ardent bleats.

"Yes, of course. _Your_ parts won't withstand the cold temperature for very long either. Or mine, matter of fact." Thanoth blinked dully. Then he turned away, back to the fire.

The droid rumbled and twirled his dome, heading back to the edge of the opening to see the view outside. His multiple scanners continued to run, his radar spinning, but he kept his receptor on Thanoth.

It had been hours since they'd returned from the cave in which Luke had entered. After waiting and getting no response from him by comlink, Artoo had rushed into the cave himself, not heeding Thanoth's objections. They went inside, exploring the hollow. All Artoo had found was, strangely enough, a broken set of chains... and a stormtrooper helmet.

Thanoth claimed there were signs of a struggle, going on about fibers and ionization. Searching deeper in the caves, he and Thanoth had come out on the other side and still found nothing. They'd searched the area, disagreeing about where to look, Thanoth insisting they not split up, much to Artoo's chagrin.

While looking near the deeper slopes around the mountainous area, they had suddenly spotted two unknown humans, a young man and woman, on a distant cliff. At this, Thanoth had gone pale and said they must hide.

Artoo hadn't wanted to go along with it, but when the two humans had gone after them, hovering in the air with jets on their soles and firing stun blasts from their wrists, Artoo was convinced. He and Thanoth slipped away into a shallow chasm that led into a forested area, and had lost them.

Since then it had been a flurry of hiding, avoiding, and covering their tracks, while still keeping a lookout for any sign of Luke. There would be quiet spells when nothing happened, suddenly broken by the sound of footsteps, or twigs snapping, or a rustle in a thicket. They'd navigated through a black labyrinth of tress, through ice-caverns along the rocky region, long throughout the day.

Thanoth had fallen over several times, from exhaustion, from his weak legs. Artoo, begrudgingly, had let him ride on him. He had regretted it at once, as the inspector insisted on treating him as his personal taxi.

"No, _this_ way, droid. Hurry, time is of the essence!" he'd exclaimed. "We must find the TIE Defender at once. Hopefully it's not guarded and hasn't been destroyed by our pursuers... But if its communications system is still operable, with a little slicing, I can manage to signal for help."

Artoo had disagreed about this, dubious about who the inspector counted as 'help', but there was no time to argue. His scanners had suddenly detected a ship: not the TIE Defender... It was the strangest vessel Artoo had ever set his scopes on, sitting a couple klicks away, almost hidden behind a snowy hill. It looked like some kind of cetacean creature, covered with robotic plating that fitted it like armor. Artoo's sensors had almost overloaded trying to distinguish whether it was organic or machine.

When Thanoth had seen it, zooming in with his monocle, he had merely glowered, as if the sight of this bizarre thing was no surprise.

"...As I thought. They've got him," he'd said, letting out a great sigh. Thanoth had looked back at Artoo with a look of urgency. "We _need_ to signal for help. Now. Come on, then."

Artoo had replied with high-pitched counters and negating blurts, ignoring Thanoth's orders to be silent.

"Quiet, you infernal machine, are you _trying_ to give our position away?... Yes, when I say 'signal for help', I mean help from _him._ " The old man had looked away, out at the strange ship. "Like it or not, droid... he is the only one who can help us now, and help Luke. _"_

Shaking his dome back and forth, Artoo had bumped the inspector off him and started away, heading towards the direction of the whale-ship himself. Thanoth had stopped him, taking the stormtrooper helmet he'd been carrying, and used it to smack the droid's barrel-shaped body.

"Blasted, reckless machine — just like your master!... If you want to _help_ him, droid, you'll help _me_ find that TIE, you understand? Right now, that's all we can do for Luke _._ I know these people — they are looking for me, I'm a link to their schemes, so they want me captured as well. I'll wager that's the only reason they haven't taken off. We need to _keep_ them here and _avoid_ capture, not run headlong into it!"

He had become short of breath then, his aged face contorted, his rust-brown eyes stern.

"Vader wants him alive. I'm sure of it," he went on, more quietly. "Think of it this way: would you rather Luke live to survive a confrontation with Vader, or let him surely die at the hands of these miscreants? There is _more_ going on here than you and I can grasp, droid... but we here in the middle of it, and we must do our part. Now, I ask you: _help me find that ship."_

Artoo had been still, ruminating for a moment. Regretfully, he found he couldn't argue. After murmuring a few bleeps, he'd agreed to help. Forced to work unwillingly with Thanoth... That seemed to be a recurring thing with him.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere of Anthan 13 only got darker and colder. Thankfully, they'd located the TIE Defender quite easily. After determining it was safe to approach, Thanoth had crawled into the crashed starfighter to use the communications, while Artoo had uneasily scouted the area. The coast was clear... for a while. When they'd seen the two humans from a distance, they quickly retreated from the ship. Thanoth had found a little hovel in the ground surrounded by several sharp glaciers, and they dove in.

So here they were, stuck together in this dark, compact, uncomfortable environment, just him and Thanoth... One recurrence after another, Artoo dryly mused.

Thanoth was staring hard at the small, smokeless fire before him, having created it with a handful of bark peels and bones he'd found of some animal. Artoo had used his electrode rod to ignite the pile, and so they had made a fire. The droid had to admit, irksome as the inspector was, working with him was getting easier.

"This should help stave off the cold, at least until the sun sets," Thanoth commented absentmindedly. "The stormtrooper helmet has built-in heating... probably won't help much, if it comes to freezing-cold temperatures, but... we shall see. Let us hope tonight's forecast doesn't include hypothermia and frozen circuits."

Artoo regarded him. Thanoth kept his impassive gaze on the fire, as if studying the flames. The droid mumbled something nearly indistinguishable. Thanoth sniffed and stroked the long-haired whiskers on his face. He sighed.

"If I were to hazard a guess... Cylo will keep Luke prisoner, and won't just dispose of him. Perhaps he's hoping to trap us by using him as bait as well... but it is difficult to say. So many questions, so many foiling threads to untangle..." Thanoth's white eyebrows furrowed, and his nostrils slightly pulsed as he blew out of them. "Blasted scientist... Still, Vader knows of our plight now. He won't sit idly by, I assure you."

Artoo bowed and made a deep, disparaging groan.

Then suddenly, he made a jittery sound, and his spiraling radar came to a stop. The droid bounced, and hurried to the outside, releasing a lively squeal as he went.

"What? What have you..." Thanoth's face loosened and he, with difficulty scurried on his knees after the droid, grunting aloud. "Now _hold on..."_

They reached the outside. The powdery ground was red-violet, matching the glowing sky above. Artoo settled before the large glassy shards that surrounded the cornice like a barrier, and Thanoth followed him. He stood up and looked outwards, but saw nothing, only light flakes gliding in the air. Artoo rattled with more noises.

Raising an eyebrow, Thanoth looked upwards, focusing with his monocle.

He inhaled, was silent for a moment, then slowly the inspector released a soft "Ah". Scrolling the rim of the lens to focus even further, he traced the distinct shape of a ship as it was descending. Steadily it landed in the far off distance.

Thanoth made a satisfied smile.

"And there it is," he said.

—

* * *

—

In his mind, Luke pictured the power lever that was attached to the computer panel, imagined it... slanting... leaning over... turning down. The grey, clawed bar being pushed sideways as if by an invisible hand, resulting in the power leaving the mechanical restraints that held him. Any moment now, he'd be free.

The lever didn't move an inch.

He continued to stare at it, tightening his jaw as he concentrated.

"Come on," he whispered, squeezing his eyes tight, single-mindedly focused on this one thing. "Move. Move."

The lever didn't budge. Luke sighed. He had been lying upright in the lab for what felt like hours, still feeling pain and queasiness, but gradually he'd been feeling better as time passed. Whatever poisons Cylo and Voidgazer had injected him with were wearing off. Now that his sight was clear and his body was starting to regain feeling, he felt up to making use of his time. To taking action... if he could.

Cylo and Voidgazer hadn't returned since the Force push incident, none of them had, so he was left alone. Left to linger, to think in the stillness and silence as the machines continued to process around him. Left to think of what would happen to him... and to think what had led him to this place.

Cylo had said he would die soon. He would kill him, after using him as a lab rat, and then... Vader would come.

Coldness swept over Luke, crammed within him, and he felt his insides shrivel. Vader... The dark figure appeared in his mind, rising as if from the depths of a black pool. Vader...

Luke cringed, opened his eyes to rest them on the lever again. He had to focus on the lever, he had to make it move. He had to escape. He had been in worse situations than this before... He could do this.

He focused again, tried to draw upon the Force, muster up his will and redirect that panicked energy in him into the lever. He needed the Force, he needed its power _now._ Surely it would work, it had to. He had used the Force to push over _two people_... droids, tables, multiple objects... Why couldn't he do _this?_

 _Move... Move..._

Defiantly, more images barraged into his head: the death-mask, set upon a towering black form, molded from darkness. An ironclad hand grasping a red blade, cutting through a body...

Vader... His...

 _No. Block it out. Don't think of it. Don't think._

Luke swallowed and made an exhaling groan in frustration. He glared at the lever, scolding it, imagining it turned down, broken in half.

 _Move!_

There was something, a wave of energy that ran through him, and it aimed itself at the lever. It budged... It went about halfway... but it didn't go down. Luke sighed and gritted his teeth. He hung his head for a moment, basking in his disappointment.

He was about to try again — when a loud crash was heard from just outside the room.

Luke started. He continued to listen; the clatter didn't stop, but only seemed to come closer. He listened as more crashes were heard, accompanied by the unmistakable sounds of lasers and heavy blaster fire, things breaking. It sounded like a battle was going on.

And there were softer sounds, mechanical chirps. It seemed a lot like... but how could it be...

An earsplitting shot broke through the door, sending out fiery sparks. Luke gaped as the small shape of an astromech droid rolled into the room. Luke smiled... but the smile wore off quick. He squinted at the droid as it came into view... It wasn't Artoo. Its top was flat and cornered, its body dark silver, and it had one large receptor that burned orange, its shape somewhat resembling a sun. It held a smoking blaster rifle in its head compartment.

Luke barely had time to react as another droid came from behind. A protocol droid, almost identical to Threepio, save for having a similarly dark silver body, and a set of red glowing eyes that was particularly unsettling in the dark. It walked inside, unhurried, and looked around until its gaze met Luke's.

"Target found," it said, its male voice carried out in an eerily inconsistent pitch of highs and lows. "Guard the door, Bee-Tee."

"Who..." Luke trailed off as the silver droid approached. It looked over the many contraptions surrounding the table until it noticed the half-turned lever. The droid pressed it down. The restraints slid off Luke. He breathed out in relief as he felt the tight pressure subside, the smarting pain fresh from the places his plated armor had been pressing for prolong hours into his skin. He wavered for a moment as his boots found the floor, but he managed to move his legs. They wobbled, his muscles feeling weak, and he was about to fall over.

The protocol droid caught him. Luke tried to balance himself and make himself stand, and looked at the droid.

"What..." Luke looked the droid over more and paused. Memories flashed in his head: yellow gorges, explosive gunshots, Chewie wounded on the ground... Luke let out a gasp. "Wait... I remember _you._ You're... that droid from Vrogas Vas. You attacked me, my friends... You're an _Imperial_ droid..."

The droid stared at him, tilted its head. Then it let go of Luke, and the young man swayed, struggling to keep on his feet. Helplessly, he fell down to his knees.

"And _you're_ that yellow-haired meatbag who stabbed me and cut off my arm..." the droid said, leering as it looked down on him. "However, I think we can put off our personal grudges until _after_ we're out of harm's way, hmm?"

Luke grunted, still unable to stand up, his knees failing to function. "You're _crazy_ if you think I'll... I'm not going _anywhere_ with—"

The droid raised a hand, and from its metal fingertip a spike of electricity was released.

"Now you listen, you troublesome little fleshwad, our orders were to _rescue_ you... but we can do that with or without a great deal of pain on your part. Your choice."

Luke tensed up, propped his mouth open to speak, but then closed it. Reluctantly, slowly, he made a nod.

"...Fine," he mumbled. "But, how do we—"

"Just _what_ is the hold up in there?"

The voice bellowed from behind the doorway, and Luke couldn't believe his eyes: Thanoth's head poked out from behind the wall. Then a clear, piping series of bleeps came after. Artoo glided into the room. On his domed back he carried the old inspector.

Luke blinked in disbelief. "Artoo? Thanoth? How—"

"Hurry up!" hissed Thanoth, waving quickly as he and Artoo rolled to him, and the old man shoved a stormtrooper helmet into Luke's arms. Luke involuntarily grasped it. "We've rigged the ship to explode in a couple minutes, we must _hurry._ Droid, take the boy. He can't walk."

"I don't take orders from _you,"_ snapped the droid. Nevertheless he helped Luke up, and had him lean on him as they moved towards the door. Artoo whistled and went over to Luke's side, buzzing spiritedly. Thanoth maintained a disconcerted frown atop him.

Luke felt like he was in a daze as he passed through the white doors of the lab with the three droids and the inspector. They entered a hallway lit with panels. At the end were two battle droids the like of which Luke had never seen before, identically gold, standing attentively and holding blasters as if they were sentries.

"Cover us," the protocol droid told them, and the battle droids obeyed. They crossed the hall and proceeded into a less narrow passage that offered little lighting. Another pair of battle droids were stationed there; they were called to cover them as well.

Luke listlessly turned his head to Thanoth. "All these droids... where did they come from?"

Thanoth gave him a pointed look, then pried his eyes to look ahead. He didn't answer.

"Where are they taking me?" Luke persisted. Getting no answer still, he turned to the red-eyed droid who was half-guiding him, half dragging him along. "Who do you work for?"

"Really looking a gift bantha in the mouth, aren't you?" The droid nearly sneered. "That information is classified. As for where we're taking you... I suppose that wasn't specified concerning the target knowing, but our orders were very specific: you are to be removed from the good doctor's care and brought back alive, unfortunately, to a certain location on Mustafar, which I'm sure has a cell with your name written all over it."

"That's enough, droid," Thanoth said sharply. "Save the talk until _after_ we've escaped. The scientists are locked off on the bridge, but the twins may yet return, and — droid, this next door is locked." He gestured to the orange-eyed astromech. "Open it, quickly."

The astromech made a growling bleep at Thanoth, but reached a thin limb out to the lock hatch. Seconds later, the door lifted.

"Leaving already?"

Standing before them was Morit, grinning wide and holding a blazing lightsaber in his hands.


	11. Chapter 11

Morit took a step forward, pointing the orange lightsaber straight toward Luke. Luke didn't move. He then made a thoughtless grab at the side of his belt, his fingers only finding air where his gun had been.

"Morit, you fool," Thanoth nearly whispered. "Of course you would insist on making things violent for no reason whatsoever."

Unabashed, the red-haired young man ushered the blade's end toward the dark-silver droid that held Luke.

"Drop him," he said. "Drop him now, or I cut you into a scrapheap."

Luke looked at the droid, at Morit, and staggered, not knowing what to do. But the droid kept his hold on him and remained motionless.

"A scrapheap." The droid spoke tonelessly, the lightsaber's glow reflecting on his silver face. "Oh no... Whatever _shall_ we do, Bee-Tee?"

There was a clicking sound, and the astromech Bee-Tee unleashed a blinding ray from its top blaster. Seconds later, more blasters joined, and Luke was blinded by an array of deadly light. He heard the lightsaber among it all, humming madly among the sound of blasterfire.

 _"Come on,"_ Thanoth prompted, his forehead creasing. "The whole place is going to blow!"

Luke barely felt his legs move as he was led out, Artoo's frantic calls not far behind. He could make out an air unit being blasted open, static wires releasing, rubble flinging. Thanoth ducked as he rode Artoo, who was wheeling away toward the door as fast as his motors would let him.

They passed through into another dim hall, marching on with the noise of the struggle quieting behind them. Luke turned his head to look back. He saw fresh holes in the walls, some of the golden battle droids following them, some remaining in the battle. They were rounding on Morit, whose lightsaber was a fiery flare careening and crossing to meet the lasers. Then there was a flash of white and a flickering burst of flames.

"Five minutes," he heard Thanoth mutter. The inspector tapped his fingers on Artoo's dome. "Come on now, _come on..."_

They heard an angry cry, and turned to see Morit emerging from the entryway, leaving a scene of whirling smoke behind him. Stone-faced, he soared above the floor, yellow flares emitting from his soles, and he dove toward them.

"Fire, fire!" Thanoth shouted, pointing at Morit. "Shoot him down!"

The droids targeted him, a rush of lasers streaming across like a red-hot rainfall. Morit swung his blade, beheading one droid, cutting another in half. He pointed his wrist, which opened up like a robotic port, and out fired a ring-shaped blast. Two droids halted and then dropped to the ground, deactivated. Morit ran his saber through them. Another shot zapped his way, hitting Morit in the chest. He grunted aloud.

Bee-Tee rolled into the corridor. The droid shot another red blast, which Morit dodged. Another; he swung his lightsaber to block it, but it hit the edge of his arm. It burned and emitted sparks. Teeth bared, he locked his eyes on all of them and changed the position of his lightsaber. He held it out like an anticipating jouster, and swooped in.

It all happened in one ripping motion: Luke registered the droid trying to move him, the orange heat slashing at Thanoth, the inspector falling with a painful groan, and Morit closing in. Before he knew it Luke found he was grabbed, and he was being brought up, up, until he and Morit were a foot below the ceiling. Luke's legs dangled in the air and he gagged. Morit's damaged, blackened hand held him by the neck.

Morit watched him struggle to breathe, a mixture of boredom and contempt rendered on his face. Luke grabbed at Morit's grip, trying in vain to wrench it loose. He then tried to kick at him, but only hit the trim of his cloak.

"Fire and he dies," Morit said, directing his attention at the others below, and he curved the lightsaber under Luke's chin.

Luke couldn't see below him, but he heard Artoo make a nervous blurb. There were some growls that sounded like the droid Bee-Tee. Nothing came from Thanoth.

"No, Bee-Tee, we can't just _risk it,"_ the protocol droid said in bitter disappointment. "No harm is to come to the towheaded one. Drat."

Luke wrenched, trying to reach down to his belt, to find a weapon, a detonator, anything... but suddenly he found himself zooming by, as if he was on a speeder. Morit was flying to the other side of the hall, out the room, support beams speeding past. He slammed Luke into a wall and Luke's body thrummed from the sudden impact. He fell several feet and hit the ground.

Morit hovered down toward Luke, his expression hard and solemn. Blearily, Luke could see the droids approaching... only for Morit to wave a hand, which glowed with circuit-shaped lines on his skin, and like magic the door sealed itself down, shutting them out.

"You should've stayed put, Skywalker," Morit said, expertly twirling his saber. "Accepted your fate as a mere specimen. My sister is freeing Cylo and Voidgazer as we speak, and they're taking care of your friend's bomb. There's _nothing_ you can do."

Luke flinched. He tried to stand, but again Morit braced his lightsaber to him.

"To think that _this_ is the son of Darth Vader _..._ some dolt who relies on an old man and some droids to save him," Morit went on. "And guess what, your dear old father won't be saving your neck either. Vader's a relic of the past that should've been purged along with it... It's _our_ time now, and Cylo's going to prove it. He's going trap him just like he trapped you, and finish him off once and for all. Destroying what he created... heh, that's some kind of complex, I suppose."

Luke looked at him, white-faced. "What... what do you mean he... _created..."_

Morit raised his eyebrows. He shook his head and made a low chuckle, pushing air through his teeth as if he'd just heard a joke.

"Yes, that's _right,_ dolt. Vader only lives because of Cylo. He's the one in control. He worked on Vader's body decades ago — he knows all about how he functions, what his weaknesses are. He has access to his cybernetics and can shut down the so-called "mighty Lord of the Sith" with the push of a _button._ That's all it takes — a button. That's how feeble he is. And he doesn't even know."

Luke stared, lost for words and feeling an odd, indescribable dismay as he took in the information.

Morit frowned. He suddenly made a sharp motion with his free hand. There was a crackle, and Luke saw the familiar shot of blue of his own lightsaber bearing itself toward him. Morit inched the two blades until they were lighting up Luke's face.

"You... won't kill me," Luke declared, finding his voice as sweat slid down his jawline. From the corner of his eye he managed a quick glimpse behind Morit... there was a molten ring forming on the door. The droids were breaking through. He swallowed and decided to keep talking. "You _can't_ kill me."

Morit scoffed. "Don't bother with your sad mind tricks. I'm immune."

"Cylo said I had to live a while longer..."

Then Morit's scornful face smoothed out, as if realization had dawned on him. He tipped his head and rubbed his lips together thoughtfully.

"He did say that..." he said in a hushed voice. He aimed the lightsabers away from Luke, held them apart at his side. Luke let out a suppressed breath.

Then Morit's eyes lit with a wild relish, he grinned, and he raised the blue lightsaber high over his head, ready to strike.

He stopped — and let out a shaken scream. He began to vibrate uncontrollably. Currents of electricity pulsed through Morit's blue tunic and robe, through his torso and shoulders. He let go of both lightsabers and they dropped, turning off. He staggered for a moment, staring with a vacant scowl. Then he fell, his form giving off smoke.

Behind him stood the silver protocol droid, his metallic fingers sizzling with high-voltage energy.

"And _that_ is what happens when you turn your back to Triple-Zero," the droid said haughtily, making a high-pitched sound in delight. The electricity extinguished, and the droid gestured back toward the now-ruptured door. "I'm sure the exit is back _that_ way. Now, if you will—"

"He said they're deactivating the bomb," Luke said breathlessly. "He said... wait. Where's Thanoth?"

 _"Your_ droid has the old man. Now if you're done, let's say we all flee for our lives now, before we're caught by a bunch of power-hungry mad scientists on their vessel that looks like a giant fish. Sound good?"

He offered an arm to Luke, and Luke didn't argue. He took it, but not before grabbing the silvery hilt that lay on the floor. He put it in his empty gun holster. As he left with the droids, walking through the blaster-burnt halls as an unconscious Thanoth was carried by Artoo, Luke felt his boot hit something. He looked down.

With a low sigh, Luke picked up the stormtrooper helmet once again.

—

* * *

—

It had all happened so fast Luke had barely been able to take it all in. The three of them had raced to find their way out, aided by the battle droids, blasting through locked doors and sealed rooms as alarms went off around them. Finally, the droids had managed to access the jaw-like rail of the strange ship. Luke went with them, fleeing into the dark, snow-blinding night, and it hadn't been too long before the ship burst behind them in a yellowish cloud of light and smoke.

And through the freezing cold and blackness, Luke had found himself being led through the snow and into another ship: a large readied shuttle. He and Thanoth were put in the center room with the battle droids as if they were luggage, to "stay out of the way", while Triple-Zero assured them that the automated ship was now in hyperspace, and that they were safe.

And so, here they were.

Luke was just finding his way to the backroom of the ship, Artoo close as his side. He was entering the short hall leading to the room, hoping to find some emergency supplies, when he noticed a blue light coming from around the corner. He and Artoo turned in time to see Bee-Tee shutting off his holoprojector, and with that the room turned dark.

Triple-Zero regarded his smaller companion, and made a slight motion with his rigid arms. "I suppose that's that, then. We have our orders. Well, these last couple of hours haven't quite been the droid-centric adventure that I hoped for, so little carnage or bloodshed... Explosions are nice, but... it's been more like an adventure's prologue if you ask me. But hopefully this will all be over soon, and we can get back to—"

"What's going on here?"

The upper glowpanels turned on, and at the open entrance stood Luke. He leaned slightly against Artoo, who rumbled.

Triple-Zero turned. "This utility room has a fusion station. We wanted a recharge."

Luke looked from one droid to the other. He peered at them.

"I'd say we more than deserve it," Triple-Zero went on. "What with _rescuing_ you just before Cylo's ship exploded. Bringing you _safely_ aboard our ship, despite how profoundly it goes against our wants as assassination droids. Nevertheless, we are on a mission, and truly no droids make progress quite like Bee-Tee and I." Bee-Tee made a grounded bleep in agreement.

Luke's eyebrows pushed down. Slowly, he limped toward the two droids.

"And you wanted to report your progress. To your _boss..."_

Artoo twirled his head and made a rough bleep. Bee-Tee set his receptor on the other droid and made a quenching growl in return, and Triple-Zero merely looked at Luke in silence. Then the silver droid took a step back. He walked away and left the room. Bee-Tee followed, his head turned backwards, still looking at them.

Artoo swiveled his top and made a few snippy, questioning bleeps. Luke frowned.

"I know we have to keep an eye on them... But right now, we need to see what we can do for Thanoth. This shuttle has to have some kind of medkit or something..."

Luke all but limped his way towards a display installed on the wall. Artoo rolled alongside him. Luke made one weak step after another, attempting to balance himself as he looked through the panels and compartments. He almost stumbled, but stopped himself. Artoo bleeped attentively at him.

"I'm _fine,_ Artoo," he insisted. The young man finally spotted a container with a red insignia on it. "Here we go. Come on, let's hurry back."

He and Artoo left the back room, Luke carrying the pack with him. They walked through the door and made their way into a bright mid-room. Six of the remaining battle droids were there, huddled and powered down. The room had passenger areas and empty, arched spaces on the sides. One of these spaces had a medical bed that had been folded out, where Thanoth now lay.

He was conscious, but keeping his eyes shut as if steeling himself with concentration. The monocle was nowhere to be seen. His left arm had a compress on it. Luke had seen the wound, a laceration that stretched from Thanoth's shoulder to his elbow, burnt black and ringed with a deep purple. The long sleeve of his Imperial uniform was hanging on by threads.

Triple-Zero stood nearby, studying him. "I don't see what all the fuss is about. A sprained ankle, a few bruises, a little cut. Why you humans are so feeble about such damages, it makes it almost—"

"That's _enough_ ," Luke told the droid, making his way through. Thanoth opened his eyes, though was otherwise unchanged, and stared up with a distant frown. Luke nearly hunched as he stood there, looking over him, wondering what kind of pain he must be in.

"Thanoth," he began, hesitating with what to say. This had been the first time he had spoken to the inspector since they escaped Cylo's ship. The inspector didn't look at him. Luke sighed and took out the medkit. Then he glanced at Artoo and gave him a small nod. The astromech hesitated only for a moment before reversing and wheeling away. He headed out the opposite door.

Luke looked through the many supplies in the container. He wasn't the most knowledgeable about medical matters, least of all wounds caused by lightsaber, but he searched. He took out an antiseptic towel.

"Uh... here," he said, offering it as a replacement for the compress — only for it to be smacked away by Thanoth's hand. Thanoth shot him a hardened glare.

"None of that will help," he said, his voice sounding hoarse, like he had a strep throat. He pointed decisively at the wound. "I'll need surgery. Bacta rays, bone fusion... Nothing in those rinky-dink medpacs will do anything for this."

Luke looked at the kit with a frown, then closed it before replying, "You can at least stop the bleeding —"

"I wasn't bleeding much to begin with!" snapped Thanoth. "Lightsaber wounds are known for being bloodless. Do you know how lucky I am to _only_ be wounded like this? And as for diagnostic remedies, this demented droid is certainly no help!"

"Forgive me for not existing to serve you flesh-lumps and your every needs," retorted Triple-Zero. He leaned closer to Thanoth, his sarcastic tone overbearing. "However, I do possess basic programming for... 'treating' injuries, and you are supposed to be delivered alive. I'd hate for your weakness as a living organism to get in the way of our orders." He turned his mechanical head at Luke. "Perhaps an extremely pain-inducing toxin into his nervous system would help? That should take his mind off his little _injury."_

"Would you — just _—_ " Luke lifted a hand toward the droid, his face scrunching up in annoyance. Triple-Zero stood there, unperturbed, looking almost interested as he surveyed him. Luke let out a sharp breath. "Just— _go away,_ will you?"

The droid didn't move. He stared back at Luke, the red eyes burning like two lingering, glowing targets.

"They're not going to obey you, Luke," Thanoth berated lightly. "And frankly, there are other matters more concerning than my injuries at the moment, such as Cylo's ship."

Luke blinked at him. "What about it?"

"Didn't you notice the time of the explosion? It was considerably some time _after_ I said it would be." Thanoth made an effort to sit up; his chest trembled and he slunk back again. Luke rose a hand to help him, but Thanoth shook it off. "I suspect Cylo prolonged it long enough to let himself escape... Or more likely, to let his comrades escape, what with him having those confounded extra bodies."

Luke lifted an eyebrow. "Extra... _bodies?"_

"Duplicates that have been cloned to his likeness, and given cybernetic memory banks. One activates if the former is killed, so his personality and mind carry on... But surely you're not too surprised by this." He huffed, and the old eyes squinted at him. "You saw that Rodian eye of his, that odd ship of his... you were his prisoner. And I take it by your condition and the needle marks on your arm that Cylo did not treat you very... humanely."

Luke looked at his arm, and indeed there in the black-suited crevices were a couple of rips that exposed his skin, where the needles had been pressed into him. He felt a sliver of a chill as he remembered it.

He tried to shrug it off, to focus back on Thanoth. He saw the old face was steeled again, trying to block out his own pain.

"When..." Luke began, not thinking as he spoke, but feeling a tinge of regret motivate his words. "When they had me, when I was held there, I thought it was all a set up. I thought that you'd..." He bent his head, and a blank silence followed. Finally, Luke looked at Thanoth eye-to-eye, the old features still stern, and he rested a hand on Thanoth's other, uninjured shoulder.

"I was wrong," he said. He brightened with a small, weightless smile. "You saved my life, Thanoth... I owe you."

But Thanoth sighed, as if impatient. "Luke..."

"You know, I think I _will_ go check on the front," Triple-Zero said in a loud, irritated voice. He turned on his heels in a snap and scurried away. The doors slid shut behind him.

Feeling slightly awkward, Luke screwed his mouth and looked at the floor. "Uh, so... so, how did you guys find me anyway? I never even thought I was still on Anthan, back on Cylo's ship. And the droids..."

Thanoth sighed. "I traced a subatomic remnant left by your armor, and signaled for help with the TIE's systems—but that's not important right now, Luke."

"It must be, if you won't prattle on forever about it."

"Luke," Thanoth grunted. "You are _not_ so oblivious to have not guessed what is going on. Vader's adjutant, rescuing you with his two assassin-slash-torture droids who are taking you to the planet Mustafar after escaping from cyborg scientists... Obviously, there are things you want to know, and things I must explain."

Luke felt a rapidness in his chest. He made an uneasy shrug.

"I... don't know what's happening," he said quietly. "But... well, we escaped, didn't we? And I get it, you're with the Empire. These are Imperial droids. You got backup, I get it. I can't exactly complain can I?" He didn't wait for a response, and decided to change the subject. "And I don't know exactly what these... scientists are all about, but he... Cylo... he told me things."

The old inspector scanned him with solemn, unblinking eyes. "Such as?..."

"He sent that distress call to us," Luke practically blurted out. "He was tracking you the whole time with some kind of nano-droid. He must've been the one who sent that message to you, the one you thought was from my... my father." He paused, and fell silent.

The inspector pressed in his lips. He pointed beyond Luke, to the other side of the room, where the unpowered droids sat. "I see... Then these droids, you must know, are Vader's forces... Luke, I had to call him for help. You see—"

"Yeah," Luke interrupted, trying to fight the bitterness in his tone. "I figured. I just saw those two back there, looking like they were messaging someone, probably him..."

He made a slight grimace. There was no avoiding it, the complicated position of where he and Thanoth stood now... Thanoth had saved Luke from Cylo, but the possibilities now...

He tried to make himself stand up more straight. His legs held him, but his knees caved. Luke leaned on the edge of the bed, scowling, and lifted his head. "So... what now? Are you just going to hand me over, like a good little slave? You rescued me just so you could deliver me to Vader, is that it?"

"I am in no state to deliver anything. I've done my part, Luke. I saved you. I'm sorry things have... happened this way, and I'm sorry the search for your father was... in vain. But you know I have no power to change things now... And Vader... he won't stop." Thanoth picked up the compress and reapplied it to his wound. He made a gulp, which wandered down his sagging throat. "The Death Star... the Cymoon factory... Why do you think he went to Vrogas Vas in the first place? He won't stop until he finds you. But of course, you know that."

"Is that how you got his help?" Luke glowered. "You promised you'd get me captured if he sent in these... _reinforcements?"_

Thanoth looked wary, almost compromising as he met Luke's gaze. "If he didn't find out I helped you before, he would have eventually. The question to ask, Luke... is what will _you_ do now?"

Luke ran a hand over his forehead, through his hair. He sighed and crossed his arms. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not in much of a condition to do anything either, Thanoth. But... blast if I'm going to just go along with this trip to Mustafar, wherever that is. And I don't suppose you'd... help me get out of this fix too?"

Thanoth made a joyless chuckle. "Well, of course, Luke. Right after my hundred-mile sprint across the Hydian Way. Please be patient until then."

Luke made a skittish laugh. "Well, you rescued me from an evil mad scientist, so I figure..." He trailed off.

Thanoth made a nod, but his gaze was dull. His wrinkled face formed a strange, expressive grimace. "Ah, yes. Cylo. He is mad, isn't he? But he knows many things. Many, many things."

Luke swallowed. He caught Thanoth's harsh dark eyes, felt stricken by them for some reason. He tried to remain calm.

"He... definitely wants Vader dead, I know that much," he murmured. "He wanted to use me as bait to lure him there..."

"I'm sure he did. They're his rivals, all of them. For his recent failures, the Emperor had them challenge Vader for his place as second-in-command. Cylo, as you can tell, took that challenge to heart. But I'm sure by now Vader has found him out, and is about to invade his base and do away with him, once and for—"

"Wait, what?" Luke's eyes widened, and he stood up like a pole. "You think Vader's heading... to Cylo? Right now? How do you know that?"

"I told you, I contacted him through the TIE. He mentioned he has been trying to find Cylo's base, and I'm sure the droids informed him that they've secured you. Cylo will be "reactivated" at his base by now, so it all works out rather well. A shame I'm not there to help Vader find his exact location, but with all the leads in the Empire I'm sure it won't be long at all before..."

Thanoth stopped, seeing the all-but-paralyzed look on the young man's face.

"What is it?" he said quietly. "Luke?"

Luke didn't answer. For a long moment he felt he was slowly sinking into the floor, and words were repeating in his head:

 _With the push of a button. That's all it takes — a button. That's how feeble he is.  
_

"That... that droid. Bee-Tee," he finally said, looking away to the door leading to the control room. "He sent a message to Vader. Do you think Artoo could get into its drive logs, find out the location of the receiver's end?"

"I—well, yes, if the droid hasn't deleted it yet, but..." Thanoth studied him, keen-eyed. "Luke, what are you planning? You act like you... actually want to contact... To go _after_..."

Again, Luke said nothing. He looked at his feet.

"Luke, you cannot possibly..." Thanoth's persistent, matter-of-fact tone seemed to shift. He made a shallow breath. "Luke... I really should not say this — it goes against all my professionalism and loyalty to the Empire — but it's not as if you yourself don't know: You can choose what happens next. These droids, you could overpower them, and you could steer this ship away to wherever you wish. You know you could. You do not have to go along with any of this. You do not _have_ to..."

He inhaled and exhaled lightly, but with difficulty, as if he was forcing himself to speak.

"You can walk away, Luke."

Luke stood there, listening, taking in the inspector's words, which felt weaker and more imploring the more he spoke. He didn't have the nerve to look at Thanoth right now, knowing what a rare, unreserved moment this was for him. He wished he could show his appreciation to him, for his help, for his concern. He waited for Thanoth's words to have an impact on him... but he felt an energy, pulsing, panicking, charging within him, telling him to go forth. To do what was whirling in his mind.

And another part of him pushed back, telling him to follow Thanoth's advice. To walk away. To avoid all of this, if only for a while longer. Let Vader and Cylo have their fight, and escape it all, run away and hide — until the next time he found himself caught in Vader's shadow.

Vader. His father.

Vader, who didn't even know... Who knew him only as the troublesome Rebel who destroyed the Death Star. Who had a vendetta against Luke and wanted him captured, likely dead by his own hands...

Didn't he? Couldn't he? How else could anything make sense? There were so many questions...

And he realized how thin the inspector's pleas were. Yes, he could walk away from _this_ conflict, not include himself in _this_ battle, but Vader wouldn't stop looking for him, wouldn't stop tearing down any bodies in his way. All the deaths on Vrogas Vos... the wounded old man who now lay here before him... If he left it all right here and returned to the Alliance, who else would he be putting in danger? Who would be next? Luke didn't let himself finish that thought.

And again, he heard Morit's gloating words; they seemed to forever replay in his head: _The push of a button... that's all it takes... And he doesn't even know._

Promptly, Luke turned to Thanoth.

"Well, inspector... looks like our mission hasn't changed much after all."

He put one foot in front of the other, and headed toward the door, now walking with less of a limp. "I'm going to extract what I can from the droid, and I _am_ going to set course for this ship. Forget Mustafar. If Cylo's involved in this... I have to do something, so... I guess I'm sneaking aboard the _Devastator_."

He placed a steady hand at his side, over his lightsaber.

"But this time, I'm the one going after _him._ I'll do whatever I have to... but I have to face Vader. _"_


	12. Chapter 12

The Crushank Nebulae.

"We're getting traces. Cylo's fleet is here, Lord Vader," said the officer, standing next to the Dark Lord on the command bridge. As was his custom, Vader was gazing in stillness out the viewport, into the stars. The _Devastator_ had been combing the edges of the nebula for some time, traversing through the multi-colored clouds slowly, but surely.

Vader didn't turn to the officer as he addressed him. "Signal the _Executor._ Thank Professor Thlu-Ry... and then execute him for fraternizing with a traitor."

The officer made a sound in his throat, and nodded.

"Into the nebulae, commander," Vader pressed. "Make no delays."

The officer obeyed, stepping away and leaving the Dark Lord. Through the viewport, the nebulae shimmered with its blues, greens, and magentas, and Vader stared into their iridescent depths.

It had been less than an hour since he'd received the message from the droids. He had contacted them after receiving the message from Thanoth, altering his orders to send them to Anthan 13 to fetch the boy. But now he had the news he had been waiting for: they had him, and had escaped Cylo's clutches. They were on their way to Mustafar.

His first impulse had been to start up his TIE fighter and take off, to try going to Mustafar to meet them himself. Of course, that would've been foolish. He still had his task to find Cylo along with Tagge, the Emperor himself had made this his priority. Leaving would only draw suspicion — and that was the last thing he needed. For all intents and purposes, he was stuck here with Tagge.

But now, there was nothing to distract him from destroying the scientist. Before he'd received the confirmation from the droids, he had made it his task to stall, to continue feigning his duties to uncover Cylo's whereabouts with the fleet, under Tagge's watchful, intrusive eye.

Then Tagge's search team had identified one of Cylo's colleagues, an old professor who had previous communications with Cylo. Ordered by Tagge to press him for information, the Dark Lord had done so, aiming to silence him if he knew anything dangerous. Fortunately, Thlu-Ry instead confessed that Cylo's flagship was located in the Crushank Nebulae in the Outer Rim.

Now here they were. If this _was_ the location of Cylo's base, if the previous Cylo had perished on Anthan 13 and been transferred into his next body... it was perfect. Vader could deliver his wrath in one crushing blow. Annihilate Cylo, his base, his fleet, his resources, and any more aberrant extra bodies that must be stored away in his foul lab. Cylo would have nothing to protect him now. No one to turn to. Nowhere to hide.

Vader's attention drew to the soft whirring of the doors opening. Tagge stepped into the room. The deck officers nodded dutifully to him.

"I've just been to navigations," he said as he approached Vader. Of course he would be there, Vader mused, droning and scrutinizing his men, trying to problem-solve with his numbers and diagrams. "Radiation wavelengths have caused some interference, but Cylo's exact location has now been detected by Comm-scan. His flagship is close, approximately eight klicks east to the inner region of this diffuse nebulae. His entire shoal is here."

"We move in at once," Vader asserted, practically barking at the other man. "I will lead the attack."

Tagge lifted an eyebrow at hearing orders thrown at him. He lifted his chin. "The squadron has already begun preparation. It will engage in twenty standard minutes." He turned around to leave. _"You_ will await any further instructions, Lord Vader."

His fists solid as steel, Vader trailed through the doors after Tagge, parting ways as he headed to the hangar. He quickened his steps. A few crewmen and maintenance droids made way for him as he strode through the hall.

Finally. He would finally crush Cylo, completely and indisputably. He would taste that victory; nothing would get in his way. The time was near...

Vengeance awaited.

—

* * *

—

The shuttle came out of hyperspace and settled into the nebulae.

"There it is — the _Devastator._ The droid's coordinates were correct," said Thanoth, seated at the navicomputer. "And that must be Cylo's fleet. I've intercepted their communications; they're about to engage in battle... " He leaned back in his chair, his old face flustered. "And have I mentioned that this is ludicrous, Luke? Absolutely _ludicrous."_

Sitting at the controls of the cockpit, Luke eyed the inspector and made a low moan. "I _knew_ I shouldn't have let you in here... If we didn't need you to get us cleared for landing..."

Thanoth made a scoff back, and Luke turned his head to avoid his disapproving glare. He looked out the transparent window, and saw the immense, arrow-shaped Star Destroyer, now nearing a group of brownish creatures that glided together like a pack of birds.

Luke stared at the sight, feeling mesmerized by it. Suddenly, he was hit by a strange, isolated sensation. The Star Destroyer seemed... different. It was as if the ship was making itself more noticeable... Something was at work... The colorful mist of the nebula seemed to fade away, the stars die out. The cockpit itself seemed invisible; all his focus centered on the warship. Luke felt drawn... He was aware of something. A subtle but tangible _something_.

He tried to understand it, to discern it more...

A voice came from the transmitter:

 _"Delta-_ class shuttle, this is to be a warspace environment," said the sharp voice. "Name your business and identify yourselves immediately, or be terminated within fifteen seconds."

Thanoth let out a brief curse before he switched on the comm and replied. "Inspector Talsar Thanoth here. Adjutant to Lord Vader. We were relayed to this point and request permission to land. We will transfer our codes now."

He tapped some keys with one hand, cringing as he held out his wounded arm to do so, and he pressed a few buttons. There was a very long pause, leaving only the growling sound of the ship's power running throughout. Luke shot Thanoth a tight-lipped look. Thanoth blinked, and cleared his throat.

"You're cleared," the voice declared at last. "We will beam you in shortly. Decrease your engines when signaled."

Thanoth sighed. He ran his palm over his face and turned to Luke, his breathing stiff, his expression grim. He shifted, now trying to get out of his chair, and struggling with the effort.

"Well... _uhf_... now what? You've shut yourself in this cockpit for the last hour and left me in the dark. Perhaps you'll share your last-minute infiltration plans with me _now?"_

"Just take it easy, okay?" Luke insisted, holding up a hand in reassurance. "Don't try to move. At least I'm able to walk after taking that medkit medicine. _You_ can barely stand."

From behind them, Artoo made a grudging whistle. Thanoth regarded the droid and rolled his eyes.

"This all works out," Luke said, staring back out the viewport to overlook the gathering ships. "When we get there, Artoo can go with you to the nearest medical bay. And as for the other droids, they'll stay here. We'll tell them they boarded our ship and we overtook them... How long do you think we can keep them locked in that storage room?"

"Not long at all." Thanoth made a numb shake of his head. "And _if_ we get past security..."

Luke made a shrug. "I'm a stormtrooper. I can pass as one of them, and find a ship when they deploy."

"Find a ship? You're... _joining_ the battle?"

Luke let out a breath, second-guessing if he should say more for a moment, until he made a vague swing with his shoulders. "Yeah... but first, we've got to get into the _Devastator._ Good thing we have you, Mr. Adjutant."

"Of course, but... you know I only have the rank of a lieutenant, Luke _._ It's one thing to land there, but to walk about Vader's Star Destroyer, you have to get access to—"

"It'll be fine," Luke interjected. "Trust me, I've done this kind of thing before." He made a half-smile as he remembered a similar scenario, boarding the Death Star on the _Falcon_ with Han, Ben, and Chewie. It had happened only two months ago, but it felt so much longer...

Clearing his head, Luke looked away and glued his eyes to the display, waiting to see signs of the tractor beam. He chewed his lip. "It's going to work. We've gotten this far... I still remember my ID numbers and everything. What can go wrong?"

"You saying that, for one," Thanoth mumbled, closing his eyes tight. Still grasping his wounded arm, he made a worn-out, drawling sigh. "I just don't see what you hope to accomplish with this... You say you're going after Vader in his flagship, and now it's Cylo in his base..."

"How about you worry about other things? Like getting us through whatever Imperial procedures we need to get in that warship up ahead."

The old man made a lazy blink. "I'm a professional investigator. It is my nature to uncover ulterior motives."

Biting back a response, Luke made a gruff sound and slouched. He leaned forward, his elbows planted on the control panel, and he stared outside at the whale-ships. It was quiet for a while.

"Vader will be there," he muttered. He glanced at his side, where the stormtrooper helmet sat on the desk. "I can feel it."

He felt Thanoth's eyes on him, and he avoided his gaze. He looked back at the controls, staring at the various functions.

Then Thanoth spoke again. "Luke... you notice the _irony_ here, don't you?"

Luke snorted. "Irony... says the man serving the Empire that blew up his planet."

"You are trying to sneak into the base of the people you just _escaped_ from. That we just _rescued_ you from."

Luke paused. He dropped his gaze for a moment. He brought it back up.

"Yeah," he said slowly, "but I'm not their prisoner now... and who knows..." His voice grew low, almost at a whisper. "Maybe _they'll_ be the ones who need rescuing this time around."

Artoo made an inquisitive sound, his round head rotating at Luke. Thanoth made a frown at the young man, his lips forged in an etched line. Luke kept his attention at the controls.

"Revenge," Thanoth asserted, breaking the silence. Luke screwed his mouth, and his eyes roamed distantly. Thanoth's voice wasn't accusatory, it was light, almost carrying a tone of understanding. "So that's why you're going there. Going after Cylo. After Vader."

Luke shot him a quick glance. Then he glued his eyes on the controls, looking over the meters and monitors, dragging his fingers across them as if he were checking them. Light shone along the devices from the outside, creating colorful outlines along the ridges. Luke let his eyes shift up, and again he looked out at the soon-to-be battle area in the distance.

Visuals suddenly radiated on a screen. Reacting quick, Luke pushed a button, then reached for a lever, lightening the engines' power as the tractor beam began pulling them in. Outside, their view of space became obstructed by the enlarged grey structure of the _Devastator._

Luke lifted his hands off the sticks. He turned, and grasped the white helmet. He stood up.

"...Here goes nothing," he said, as they were brought into the opening hatch of the hangar.

—

* * *

—

It had taken longer to close in on Cylo's flagship than Tagge estimated, as he claimed there was more interference. It was then within the hour that Cylo's shoal was locked within their scopes. Pilots, officers, and backup troops had been called for short briefings, ships and correspondence were prepped, and it wasn't long before Cylo's shoal appeared before them.

The horde of aquatic, tan-colored creatures drifted together in sight of the _Devastator_ , donned with wiry metal armor and glowing outlets, the vessels tied by a set of cables that stretched for miles.

Vader was now readying himself in his sole TIE Advanced. He sat in the dark red-glowing cockpit, immersed in battle meditation, awaiting for the hatch doors to open. His muscles tensed underneath the leather and armor, his whole being anxious to set out.

The hangar doors finally opened — but to his surprise he saw it was only for a brief moment, enough to let a random shuttle in. The stubby craft passed by, settling to land in a designated area elsewhere.

Annoyed at this interval, Vader reached out to adjust his speed control — but then stopped, his gloved hand suspended.

He sensed… something. The Force peaked, sharp and resonant. Something was different. Something was... alight. He felt his focus pull away, inadvertently change...

He frowned, remembering when he'd let his focus wander at the Shu-Torun battle. This was no time for distractions; this was time for battle.

He fully powered on his targeting computer and gripped the analog sticks. The engines ran with an anxious rumble.

The hatches opened again, this time for them. They were signaled for take-off. He flew out of the main hangar, leading the Imperial starfighters, the _Devastator_ lingering behind them like a colossal protector.

"All head fighters, attack formation," he said over the comm system as they reached open space.

Vader headed the array of TIEs that raced toward the pod-like group, and unleashed a storm of green lasers upon the whale-ships. They wavered. Vader broke away from formation and shot at them, dodging their yellow blasts, rolling and speeding through the crossfire as numerous ships crashed and twirled to their doom. The organic ships were slowed by their attack.

After several minutes, Vader keyed on one of the frontmost whale-ships. His grip tightened as he viewed the large creature... It stood out to him as if everything else was suddenly far away. It was calling him.

"That is it," Vader said quietly, his voice burning through the vocoder. "Cylo's flagship."

Vader hurried to pass it, aiming to interrupt its path. He fired on the snout of the creature; it raised its head and roared, revealing a set of sharp, primitive teeth. Other TIE fighters sped in the background, swarming around the other whale-ships like a mist of insects.

" _Devastator_ to Lord Vader," came a voice from the comm, one of Tagge's officers. "C-level torpedos, incoming."

Vader eyed his targeting computer. He tilted the control sticks to swerve around, the Force swimming in him, letting him time his maneuver exactly. He dived down to meet the two large explosives that came out from the whale-ship's husks. He adjusted his angle and delivered a cluster missile squarely from the side, taking out both projectiles. Another large explosion erupted in front of the creature's pleated throat. It let out a pained howl.

"Torpedos destroyed," Vader affirmed. Before the creature could move, he spun upwards and performed a wingover, sending a bomb into its bawling mouth before descending. There was another explosion, but as he weaved away to gain a safe distance, he saw the whale-ship was still outwardly unaffected.

Not far behind, another whale-ship sent a yellow ray from one of its glowing orifices. Two fighters were caught in it while Vader dashed out of range. He had to separate the main ship from the shoal, he decided. He found the large cables holding the ships together, and fired. They disintegrated. The creature began to turn and its fellows followed suit.

"They're making a break for it, Lord Vader," Tagge's voice said from the Star Destroyer. "Converge now."

Vader called the closest TIE fighter pilots to a formation, and led them in a simultaneous attack. He ordered for rapid-fire on the head. At this, the flagship became imbalanced and swerved to the left, where it hit another ship, grazing it and destroying several exterior components. The creature hobbled in its limited space, distressed. It stroked its gigantic fins up and down and began to paddle away.

"One is breaking from the shoal," one of the pilots said. "Incoming. It's..."

"Brace!" Tagge exclaimed.

Vader directed his attention back at the whale-ship. As it was turning, an array of sub-like vessels stacked out from its stomach, and fired. They homed in on the Star Destroyer and hit. Blue tracks of electric light entrapped the triangular warship.

"Ion pulse. The _Devastator_ 's disabled," a pilot said in disappointment. "They're going to get away."

"You are mistaken," growled the Dark Lord.

Vader and the others continued to shoot at the flagship's rear as it turned away to rejoin the others. Then Vader increased his speed, parting to fly to the side of the whale-ship. He had to calculate the best place to shoot; he fired close to one of the glowing outlets, piercing through the spiked metallic covering. He advanced forward in a straight line.

"Lord Vader! You're on a collision course!"

The TIE Advanced didn't turn. It rushed into the breached hole of the ship's cracked surface, and disappeared. Seconds passed.

"Vader?"

Vader made no response. He was rushing through a stretch of light, feeling the way ahead, and gradually, he slowed down. His computer processed the trajectory and a sudden change in the environment — showing large organic quantities — and the TIE glided in a sleek path until it came to a stop. The ion engines throttled, hummed, then ceased.

Using the Force, he pushed the top hatch open and jumped out of the TIE cockpit. He stood on the roof of his ship. He looked around his surroundings, narrowing his eyes at what he saw. The landing site was made up of an unknown, flesh-like matter, an ooze that seemed to have grown on the walls and floors like a fungus. He was inside the whale-ship.

He turned to find a pair of white doors not far off. Vader jumped off the starfighter and headed towards it, unhooking the hilt of his lightsaber.

—

* * *

—

"You are under arrest."

The officer stood aboard the shuttle's mid-room, a stocky man in standard Imperial uniform and cap, two stormtroopers ranked at his right and left. They pointed their rifles at Luke and Thanoth.

"What?" Luke took a step back, his helmet hiding his bewilderment. He looked to Thanoth, who was again being carried by Artoo. A scowl was on his wrinkled brown face.

"As I thought," he commented, almost groaning.

Luke turned to him, taken aback.

"You were foolish to think you could return here after what you did," the officer said, his chin raised and his arms behind his back. He regarded Luke. "Did you really think no one would notice all the commotion you caused, you _Rebel scum?_ And you, Thanoth, you of all people, leaving so much evidence behind... Someone of your caliber and reputation, aiding a _Rebel..."_

"Oh, so you've heard of me," Thanoth replied, raising an eyebrow. "Well, I do work hard for my credibility... Of course, only men willing to lose such things are worthy of having them in the first place."

"You're worth _nothing_ to the Empire now, traitor. Good luck explaining your actions to your interrogators." The officer indicated towards them with a dismissive wave and addressed the troopers. "Detain them."

The stormtroopers stepped forward, both taking out binders from the packets on their belts, and Luke backed away, his hand grabbing at his holster. Artoo rolled backwards, letting out a trembling ring as he carried a sour-faced Thanoth.

"Y... You're making a mistake. There's no Rebel here," Luke lied, his heart ramping up. "I can prove it, if you just—"

"Quiet," grunted one of the troopers, lifting the claw-like cuffs in one hand and directing the blaster with the other. He pulled the trigger, unleashing a stun-blast.

Luke threw himself aside, missing the shot completely. He knelt on the ground, and brought out his lightsaber. It ignited as the other trooper shot another blast at his head, which Luke dodged. He waved the humming blade at them, warding them off. He heard frantic sputters in the background from Artoo. The officer was now white as a sheet, bearing himself against the wall while the stormtroopers stood, staring.

"Fire!" the officer ordered, wagging a finger at him. "Take him in dead if you have to, but take him!"

The troopers forwarded toward Luke. They blasted repeatedly. Luke swung the blue blade and, to his own awe, successfully blocked the bolts, most of which redirected and hit one of the troopers in the chest, the multiple blasterfire rupturing the white armor. The trooper fell down with a painful yelp and didn't move.

The remaining trooper continued firing, and Luke swung to block, but to no avail this time; he didn't manage to deflect a single shot.

Luke came to his feet, and stood to oppose the trooper, feeling like an altered mirror image of the fellow white-clad soldier before him. The stormtrooper seemed more than wary as he faced Luke, eyeing the bright, sword-like weapon in his hands. He aimed at Luke's neck, then his elbow — he knew what vulnerable places to strike.

Luke failed to deflect the red lasers again, missing by half-seconds, and he staggered. One direct blast sunk into the fabric of his undersuit. Groaning at the familiar sting, he tried to rise to his feet again, but his legs wobbled; the medicine hadn't completely cured him. He kept his eyes on the trooper, held out the lightsaber and tracked his movements with it. The trooper fluctuated at the threat, trying to find a place to target his next shot.

Swallowing hard and still pressing against the wall at a safe distance, the officer shouted, "Shoot him, shoot him! You useless stormtroopers, would you _just_ _shoot—"_

His shrill voice was engulfed by an abrupt burst of energy through the door, followed by a splatter of white shards and the sound of broken metal. Luke and the stormtrooper turned. The officer shifted away from the door, tripping on the leg of the fallen stormtrooper as he did so.

Pierced melted gaps appeared along the doorway edges, creating an opening. The center landed with a loud _clank._

From it Bee-Tee approached, loaded with several guns and heated devices that were unfolded from his many compartments.

The stormtrooper shot at the droid, but the blast barely fazed the dark steel of the droids's head. The large orange eye turned on the trooper, and Bee-Tee brought out two guns on both sides. He went all out with open fire.

Luke turned off the saber and ducked, swerving as smoke filled the room, accompanied by the incessant blasterfire. There were crashes and screams and the sound of it all flooded Luke's ears, loud and blazing and continuous, as if it would never end.

"That's enough, Bee-Tee," came the nearly drowned out voice of Triple-Zero, and finally the boisterous noise stopped.

The smoke cleared. Luke lowered his arms from his huddled position and looked around him. The officer lay lifeless on the floor, as did the other stormtrooper. Luke darted his eyes back near the control area, and let out a breath of relief as he saw Artoo and Thanoth peer out from behind a storage unit. He made his way toward them.

Triple-Zero turned to his smaller companion, who let out a long, heavy bleep. "Looks like we've saved the meatbags yet again, Bee-Tee." The droid looked over at Luke. "You have a talent for _not_ dying when you absolutely _should_ have, don't you?... I find that offensive."

"One gets used to it," grumbled Thanoth, coughing as he tried to stand. He winced as a tentative, wry-faced Luke took him by the arm and helped him up. Artoo wheeled about, twittering testily as he looked back and forth at the two droids and the two humans.

Looking over his shoulder, Luke surveyed the lifeless Imperials. He felt his shoulder still burning from the blast he'd taken, and he hissed from it. He blew out a sigh, and pulled off his helmet.

"...You knew you were wanted by the Empire," he said, looking at Thanoth. "But then... why did you come here?"

"I didn't know, but I suspected," answered Thanoth. He slid over and leaned against the back of a chair. "All the evidence, really, he had a point. It hardly changes anything."

"Indeed," Triple-Zero supplied before Luke could reply. "You've all had your fun little games, locking us up in that back room, but I'm afraid it'll take more than that to stop _these_ droids. Now, we will resume our—"

"Shut up!" Luke shouted, glaring at the droid, who made a jolt. Luke wrenched as he turned back to Thanoth. "If you're wanted by the Empire, we _can't_ go out there... Vader's flagship, that's the _last_ place you should be. They'll kill you."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Thanoth made his way over to Artoo, and leaned on him. "But I have no intention of fleeing. I will not run. I will not hide. I knew the risk I was taking the moment I researched the name Luke Skywalker and decided to investigate. Such was my curiosity... And, well... I paid for that sufficiently, didn't I?"

"Thanoth—"

"There's no time. You've made your decision. I know I cannot stop you, Luke... I'm not sure anyone can at this point. Droid," he barked, looking at Triple-Zero. "You have a voice-replicator, yes? Play back a logged recording on the officer's comlink, enough to be able to mimic his voice, and tell correspondence that he and the other trooper are still searching the ship, while a stormtrooper escorts the traitor inspector and astromech off the ship."

"Oh, you stupid, balding pile of dead brain cells," scoffed Triple-Zero, edging closer to the inspector, his red eyes burning. "We have orders from _Lord Vader._ What makes you think we'll drop them at _your_ whim?"

Thanoth made a mild head-shake. "Drop them? Quite the contrary. You need the boy. Your mission is top secret, and we can't leave this hangar. Nor can we stay here, they'll get suspicious and send more searchers, and even you two murder-bots can't fight off Imperial forces forever. The best chance we have is to follow procedure and enter the ship, with me as prisoner, and wait things out. The boy can remain hidden and pass as a stormtrooper until the time is right to deliver him to Vader."

He exchanged a keen look with Luke.

"It's not Mustafar, but it's still Vader's vessel, and it's the only choice you've got, droid," Thanoth went on. "They'll lock me in the brig, both of us if we're found out. Either way, we're as good as his, and your mission is accomplished."

The silver droid stood there in hard silence. Finally, he stepped away. He went towards the body of the officer, grumbling in a clicking alien language. Bee-Tee made a peeved, baritone growl from behind.

Luke stood there, inarticulate as he watched the droid take the comlink from the dead officer and speak into it, just as Thanoth directed. Meanwhile, Thanoth had pulled himself to perch Artoo and was trying to keep his hold. His face was set with a rough calm.

Suddenly Luke jumped — a loud announcement voice boomed out, coming from the comm speakers outside.

"Attention all stormtroops in sectors A-9-and V-12. We are deploying. Report to the south hangar and board transports. I repeat, backup troops, report to deploy at once."

"South hangar... that's not far off," Thanoth whispered to Luke. He held onto Artoo's dome one-handedly, tucking his wounded arm against his chest. He looked at Luke with old, solemn eyes.

"Well, young Luke... here we are, at the _Devastator_ at last," Thanoth declared more loudly. "Shall we go _?"_

For a moment Luke didn't answer. He gazed back at the inspector and the droids as if they weren't there. He was sure there were words of resistance in him, but they didn't come out. He felt disconnected, devoid of thought and feeling.

Then, as if suddenly re-energized, he moved. He detached his empty belt, took out his lightsaber, and walked over to one of the dead stormtroopers. He knelt down and removed the trooper's supplied belt and pulled it around his own waist. He picked up a rifle from the floor.

"To... the brig then," Luke said, his mask hiding his grimace. He walked with Thanoth and Artoo out of the room, the silver droids trailing behind, and Luke's heart pounding like a drumbeat with each step.


	13. Chapter 13

Here we go, a new update. So, this chapter... I think if I were to sum it up one in one word, it would be "confrontations".

As always, hope you enjoy. :) _  
_

 _—_

* * *

—

Vader cut his blade through the conduits that connected to the generator. The thick metallic piping had burst open, and the charge planes surrounding the chromium machine were also sliced, sputtering with electric droplets. The hyperdrive emplacements were destroyed.

Vader had reached the downward levels of the engine chambers, having followed the steel-lined path that led there. He had taken it upon himself to destroy all the hyperdrive components in the dark cavern-like area, and disabled much of the built-in weapon systems along the way. Now there was no way for the ship to jump into hyperspace, and Cylo could not escape.

He turned away and headed out, his lightsaber still alight. The doors opened and he strode down the corridor. Like most of the inside, the walls were like the garish flesh-like matter he had landed in, though the floors and doors were enforced with metal. Vader proceeded down the murky halls until suddenly, he turned.

There he was met by a group of green-suited, visored soldiers, positioned and armed with blasters. They all aimed his way.

"Fire!" one of them shouted, and their lasers blazed forward. Vader swung, deflected the blasts easily, twitched his fingers and imploded the small bombs thrown at him. He walked forth in an impenetrable red cloud of defense and offense, his saber floating through the men and they hit the ground in a cluster of bodies and wasted seconds.

This attack meant Cylo knew there was an intruder on his ship. Vader had already taken out any service personnel or engineers in his way, but Cylo still had many other people spread throughout the immense monster vessel.

Not too long ago, Vader had called to the _Devastator,_ ordering to cease fire on the flagship while he remained on board. But to his displeasure, Tagge had taken this as an opportunity to both make his command more prominent in the battle and to show Vader needed aid, and insisted on deploying backup stormtroopers to invade the ship as well. They were on their way.

Vader did not want assistance, not in this matter, but he had thought to use this as an advantage, telling Tagge to have the troops head to the lab to destroy Cylo's extra bodies that were in stasis. If the stormtroopers succeeded, that would leave only the one Cylo for him. Though a part of him was disappointed at this plan; it meant he would only get to kill the scientist once.

The Dark Lord passed through another set of doors and found an area with a turbolift. He walked forward and took it, extinguishing his lightsaber as he rode it. The lift hovered up... then it stopped, but not on the level he'd set it to. The whole thing powered down and the small compact space turned pitch dark. The turbolift dropped with a sudden force.

Holding the bar attached to the side, Vader lifted a hand and pushed against the induced gravity with the Force. The lift was gradually slowing... then it was still, kept up as if the power had never left. Re-igniting his lightsaber, and concentrating enough to keep the transport device stable, he moved it to continue upwards.

When he was at the level he intended, he cut a hole through the entrance door and kicked it down. He stepped through, his boot leaving the deck of the machine, and with that, he let it clunk away to crash itself into the bottomless depths.

So, Cylo knew where he was.

Now he found himself in an empty set of arched halls, lined with steel and showcasing several conducting devices and gauges, and several doors. The environment was more technically-designed, with no flesh walls to be seen. The Dark Lord looked from one door to another, focusing to discern which way he should go...

Suddenly, he felt it again. That same distracting tremor in the Force he'd felt before as he'd awaited in his starfighter. The Force seemed determine to draw him away from this moment, to declare that there was something else at work... and right now, when he was finally on track to confront Cylo...

He sensed the scientist was close...

Vader wanted to bypass this stirring in the Force — but he knew it was not wise to dismiss such an incessant feeling. Perhaps it was important, a warning of some kind. He tried to open himself to it and find the meaning behind it.

It was vague to see at first, like a clouded stream, but somehow it was... not unfamiliar. It was not the shade of static that was Cylo's presence, of that he was certain. This was unique, something that his very being responded to. It was distant but bright, like a glistening that came from an ocean's bed. If he looked more, he thought, he was sure he could find it, sure it was...

 _No..._ it couldn't be. Vader became still, his cape drifting as the air from a nearby ventilator spread past him. He turned his helmeted head as if to find the source of what he felt.

No, the droids had the boy. They were on their way to Mustafar, they'd told him. The boy was not here, he could not be here. But this lingering feeling...

The red saber hummed before him, and he looked at his own hand wielding it. He brought it down. His mind pushed the feelings away, and his dark desires fought against his curiosity, wanting to ignore these questions and move on. Perhaps it was only in his mind, his deepest fears being roused up and used against him, an unforeseen weakness...

 _Destroy Cylo. Destroy Cylo._

Vader debated in himself, anger and confusion warring within him as he stood there, halted in his revenge. Revenge... That was why he was reminded of the boy, why the Force pushed him into his thoughts... That was what he had to enact now. He would find Cylo, he would make him pay for everything. Everything the madman had done against both of them.

And Cylo was near, he knew. Very near. He had thought to strike him down in one swift blow when he faced him, as swift and inconsequential as if crushing an insect. Now Vader thought he much preferred to make the scientist's death excruciatingly slow and painful. That was more fitting.

His focus sharpened and his mind now set, the Dark Lord brought his attention back to where he was. He looked at the several hatches in the split room, all of which were locked. One stood out to him and he strode to it. Not wasting time, he carved a passage through the door with his lightsaber and proceeded through.

The room was large and shadowed, overlaid with the sheen of installed gadgets. In the middle was a wide walkway stretching for several yards. Along the sides were a dozen or so small, oval-shaped crafts that resembled eggshells — perhaps that was what they were — with red veins on their yellowish surface. A type of escape pod, Vader figured.

And near the far end of the walkway stood Cylo, leaning towards one of the crafts as if about to step into it. He paused and regarded Vader, who met his gaze. Slowly the Dark Lord made his way to him.

"Vader," Cylo acknowledged, standing in a straight posture and tilting his head in a courteous bow. He shifted his hand under his jacket to his lavender vest, no doubt reaching for a stashed weapon. Vader gripped his lightsaber, the leather on his hand screeching tight with the pressure.

They were feet apart. His breath was the only sound as he stood staring at him, his hatred spilling in the air.

"You thought you could escape." He lifted the red blade between them, its end at the base of Cylo's neck.

Cylo curled his lips, his Rodian eye reflecting the sharp crimson of the blade. His stout, bearded face was smooth with a benign calm. "It is you who cannot escape me _,_ Vader. Just as you cannot escape your own weaknesses. Fragmented, scarred, clinging to life and the ways of the Force... while still being reliant on machines, _my_ machines. You are one of _my_ creations... and an outdated one at that."

"Your pompous words will not help you," Vader said, making his own tone as equally calm. "You and your abominations will be wiped from this galaxy, as all plagues should be."

"Turning to threats when you're hit with an unwanted truth... typical. That's why you can't stand to let me live, Vader; because I know the truth about you. I know your secrets, your past..." Cylo gave him a deadpan smile. "And perhaps what you plan for the future, given what lengths you've gone to keep—"

There was a scarlet blur as Vader moved, and Cylo let out a pained shriek. He clutched his chest, his fanciful jacket seared through, a mark now burnt on his chest, and small spits of electricity came from it. He trembled for a moment, pressing a hand to the injury. Cylo met Vader eye-to-eye again, the serene facade gone. He made a scoff.

"Fine, go ahead and kill me. I have plenty more lives, and you only _one_. Killing me only proves I'm a real threat to you."

"You have no power to cheat death, Cylo," Vader told him. "You are not above it, you are not even alive. Your existence is artificial, an imitation of a man who once lived that has been _downloaded_ with information. Nothing more. And suffice to say, your latest experiments have not been met with success."

Cylo's voice was rasping, virulent. "And what of you? Your time is waning, Vader. My work will continue. If not by me, then by someone else of my initiative. You can't stop progress, Vader. The future won't be stopped by anyone. Not by you, not by a lightsaber."

Another flash of red sped past with a motion of Vader's hand, and the blood-colored blade sunk into Cylo's shoulder, making a steaming gash. The doctor squirmed in pain. Still he stayed standing, and still he faced the armored man opposite of him. Vader stared, motionless and silent.

Cylo grunted. "I know how... to weaken you..." He moved his arm and lifted a hand in front of him. In his palm he held not a weapon, but a small square panel that consisted of a single glowing red button.

"You might say," the scientist continued with a smirk, "I know how to... disable you."

The lightsaber lowered and Vader brought up a hand, his fingers clawing the air as he harnessed the Force. Cylo made a spitting croak, his eyes popping as he tried to inhale in vain. But he made no effort to stop the invisible chokehold on his throat. He fingers tightened around the panel in his hand.

Vader watched him struggle, drinking in the pain he felt emitting from him and relishing every second of it.

Cylo coughed, wrenched, his breath becoming more hoarse. He glared at the Dark Lord, who watched him as if spellbound, with single-minded absorption. Somehow the scientist managed to speak in his shredded voice.

 _"Vader,"_ he rasped, his teeth chattering, and his eyes began to tear up. With a shaken hand he lifted the small panel and pointed it straight at the Dark Lord. His thumb pressed down on the glowing button.

There was a soft _click._

One more harsh mechanical breath passed through the mask's vented mouth. Vader's hand let go, falling lamely at his side. The lightsaber dropped to the ground and the red beam banished back into it.

All was silent, save for Cylo as he groaned and wheezed on the floor where he had fallen. He stood again, his gaze grim as he looked at the tall black form that now began to shift, like a monument on the verge of collapsing.

"Brainless beast _,_ " Cylo sneered, rubbing his throat as he surveyed the Dark Lord. He eyed the panel in his hand. "I've kept this for twenty years, _this_ , the secret to the end of Darth Vader! I didn't know my private access to your cybernetics would work for sure, but now... now you understand. All along, I could've killed you at any time. You lived because of me, Vader, and now you will perish by my hand, the hand of a scientist. Or rather, the finger... Remember that as your life drains out of you."

Vader's knees caved. With the weight of a tank, his body purged, the dark cape pouring out like black water. He halted and remained there on the ground, kneeling, as if perpetually frozen in time.

Cylo took a step forward. He made a callous sniff through his nose and reached out a hand. His fingertips touched the top of the black polished helmet.

"Remember, Vader," he whispered, tapping on the head of the dome with his forefinger.

Then Cylo made a slight jump; there was an automatic buzz as the doors opened from behind him. He turned, and then took a step back, blinking as the ivory-white figure of a stormtrooper approached from the opening.

The trooper held out a blaster. He seemed to gape at what was before him, taking in the sight of the scientist, the motionless Dark Lord... and the controller in Cylo's hand. The ghost-like mask looked squarely at the Rodian-eyed man.

"Drop it," rose the young voice from within the helmet, and the trooper pointed the end of the blaster at Cylo. "Drop the remote."

Cylo's bewilderment soon turned to an affronted scowl. He chortled and let out a stuffed breath.

 _"Who_ do you think you are? You think I'm afraid of a mere stormtrooper? I've brought down your mighty enforcer in _seconds_. You have _no_ idea of what I'm capable of—"

"I think I do," the stormrooper muttered, taking another step closer. "More than most would, doctor."

Cylo's human eye squinted at him, then enlarged in sheer understanding. He scanned the armored soldier head to toe, and set his thin-bearded mouth into a slanted grimace. Faintly, he nodded.

"Of course," he murmured. "Heh... I shouldn't be surprised that you'd show up... So what do you think you're going to do _now?_ Kill me? That will achieve nothing. You know what happens when you cut off the head of a hydra, don't you?"

"I said _drop it_ ," pressed Luke. He placed a finger around the trigger of the gun. "Now."

"It's too late. The power in his suit is gone, his life support systems are inoperable. The very functions that let him _breathe_ are disabled. There's no way he'll ever be—"

Luke shot, and Cylo dodged out of the way. Luke then lunged at him and drove his fist into Cylo's face. Blood seeped from the scientist's nose and he recoiled from the blow. Luke grabbed for the square panel clasped in his hands, but Cylo clenched it, wrestled with him, and managed to swat the blaster out of his other hand. The two of them struggled for the panel, pulling, kicking, but Luke was clearly overpowering him. Cylo's grip loosened from the small device.

In one blunt motion, Luke yanked it from Cylo, who tripped backwards, teetering close to the edge of the walkway. Without thinking Luke took that moment to lower himself to the floor and gather the blaster in his hand; he aimed it blindly. He shot twice and the stream of lasers hit Cylo in the chest.

Cylo's human eye glazed over and he tumbled down. He fell off the walkway.

There was a hard _thump._

Luke let out a heavy breath. He stood up and jogged over to look down a few feet below. Cylo's body lay spread-eagled against the concrete, his neck twisted behind his shoulder, caught in the stand corner of one of the egg-like pods.

Luke uneasily drew his gaze away. He stood there a moment, breathing in and out. He shut his eyes before he slowly, reluctantly, looked behind him.

The ebony figure was still there, in the same kneeling posture, the leather-covered hands slack, and the angular mask inflexible as ever. Darth Vader, terror of the galaxy, was now idle and undefended. As powerless as a droid that had been shut off.

Luke swallowed.

His legs feeling like lead, he took one step closer, then another. Another. Fear cramped his throat. His heart rattled through his chest, and all the muscles in his body seemed to tighten up with each movement.

He was only a few feet away from the dark figure. He looked down at the inhuman, skull-like mask, measureless thoughts drifting in his head. There was an energy... he could feel it... the energy of the still-thriving life within. A powerful, burning coldness that distinguished what was in front of him, both familiar and foreign to his own senses.

And he felt it dwindling. Weakening, like the glow of a spent torch.

He held the remote in the palm of his hand. He stared at it. He shuddered with the weight of the choice he was about to make.

Then with rigid precision, he pointed it at the black figure, and glided his finger over the red-lit button.

—

* * *

—

 _He was falling into a mass of emptiness, somewhere in between life and death, a lightless plane of the Force, of himself. For a time he was nothing... but he found himself again._

 _He was surrounded by fire. Ashen air, rivers of death, volcanoes bursting in the distance, and the Mustafar sky was tearing with thundercracks. He had no form, but he could feel the lava as it licked at his flesh._

 _And the visions. The visions were of the same place, the same faces, as always. They appeared and played out. He let them._

 _There was the sound of screams. He saw the bearded man, who tried not to watch the younger man crying in agony as he drowned in flames. They exchanged words, old lies and unsaid accusations, ones that could only be said in dreams._

 _"If you loved me, Obi-Wan... you would have killed me."_

 _Obi-Wan's grey-blue gaze rest on him. All was still. Then he took the legless man in his arms, and hurled him into the lava. He was engulfed in it, and the handsome face melted away like liquefied wax._

 _Boils bubbled in its place, and Vader rose from the glowing yellow ooze, Sith blade in hand. Within a single step Vader brought his saber across and cut the man in two. Obi-Wan's body dissipated and the weathered robes fell to the ground, now sheared into pieces. Vader looked at them, smeared his boot on them.  
_

 _He moved on, striding through the crumbling heat. Vader made no pause in his steps as he continued. He had to keep moving. These illusions that came to him on the brink of death... he knew what they wanted. He would not let them keep him here. Not ever.  
_

 _And as if on cue, there came a voice from above, fierce and outraged at what had just transpired. It was the same young man who had been taken by the flames before, but he was now whole. He stood at the top of a cliff like a mythic avenger, furious and robed in black. A blue saber bloomed in his hands as he leapt down to face Vader._

 _They fought. The young Jedi was swift and agile, his blade twirling in a fleeting blur. He made flips and twists with his body, jumping over the Dark Lord and spinning with acrobatic freedom. Vader clashed his red blade to his blue, over and over._

 _Deciding to end it, Vader reached out a hand, catching the young Jedi in mid-jump with the Force. The young Jedi choked, and in a second Vader sliced off both of his legs. The young man wailed in pain and dropped like a rock. He looked up at the Dark Lord, his sea-blue eyes imploring. He began to crawl to him, and reached out like a beggar._

 _"How could you... do this?"_

 _And Vader answered him:_

 _"You were a child."_

 _Swelling with a thrill of hatred and pleasure, he drew his saber and cut off the young man's outreaching hand. He walked over to the sobbing lump and took his one remaining mechanical hand in his. He dragged him towards the lake of lava and threw him down the slope, toward the edge. Hungry flames awaited him there._

 _"I am well accustomed," the Dark Lord said evenly as he turned away, "to killing—"_

 _He stopped, suddenly struck by something: a new awareness. There was... a presence. A strong light..._

 _He turned back around. Below at the edge, he saw a young man clothed in white. He crouched near the other man, who was now being consumed by the fire. It spread over what was left of his all-but-limbless body, and he made no struggle against it._

 _The young man was reaching out to him, his face desperate. Vader could feel his pain._

 _"I'll not leave you here," the young one declared. He grasped the burnt metallic hand that grazed pitifully at the dirt. He pulled on it. "I've got to save you."_

 _The other man said nothing and did not move. His face was planted down in the grime, unresponsive, not resisting the fire as it embraced him. His shoulder-length hair was gone, replaced with scalding black patches, his Jedi robes burning as the flames continued spiraling over his body. The boy pulled him, his legs bending as he tried his hardest to hoist the weight of the sinking man. The man kept falling further._

 _Vader watched,_ _overflowing with a sickening fury. He_ _took a step forward._

 _"No."_

 _He reached out to use the Force. As if in answer, the rock floor beneath him began reshaping, and the earth growled at him... The Force was refusing his call._

 _He pushed back with the blackest of his anger, bellowed at the Force to obey. To bring the boy out of the grasp of the corpse, away from that consuming aura. Only the metal arm was visible now, and yet the boy kept hold of it. He was on his knees, his head hung low, blond hair covering his face._

 _"I won't leave you," he whimpered.  
_

 _Then the flames moved with a life of their own. They traveled from the metallic hand to that of the boy's, and clung to him. Ringlets of fire enveloped the young one without him seeming to notice. He was being pulled to the flaring pool with the other man. He moaned, but still did not let go._

 _Vader let out a roar, using every bit of his power to pry the boy away, but he could only watch as he found himself growing farther and farther away, the more he tried to reach the boy, the more distance bounded between them. Everything was shrinking, the boy, the molten sea, all culminated in a violent haze, and then—  
_

 _Click._

Air soared freely through his lungs.

The noise filtered through the mask in one strong, stifled hiss, pressured out like a charged sigh. He became aware, conscious...

He felt himself return to his physical self as if back from a deep repose. His red-filmed optics returned, blurred back into focus, his body no longer sapped of its strength. Blood pulsed in him from a throbbing heart, the nerves in his body tense with needle-sharp pain, twisted with wire and metal. The suit, the armor, and the mask once again returned him to his familiar physical state, weighing down on him, entrapping him completely.

Mustafar was gone, the agony, the apparitions were gone...

Everything was functioning again. Everything was once again under his control...

Automatically, Vader rose to his feet. His metal joints moved stiffly, but they moved. He was back where he had been, before things had blackened out of existence. It was all real and solid. The steel floor of the walkway, the illuminated pods, the shadows trailing from the open door...

But Cylo, he knew, was gone. Instead he felt a flow of brightness, the distinct presence of another... He knew that presence had been here this whole time, but now he centered on it, set his sights on it.

Standing before him was the white-clad form of a stormtrooper, who was watching him in complete silence.

The two stared at each other, soul to soul, one concealed being to another. The Dark Lord's cold breath ushered in and out as the moment endured, suspended between them, feeling endless.

Then Vader opened his left hand, and his lightsaber flew to it like a magnet. The stormtrooper started at this and backed away, but Vader turned from him and made a slow ways towards the edge of the platform. He looked down and studied the body lying below, his attention resting on the sight a while. Then he brought his gaze back up. He rounded and faced the burned hole of the other doorway.

"...Trooper," he said, his tone deeply calm, somewhat quiet. "Follow me."

With slow-moving steps, he strode through the carved out passage of the dim doorway, and he was gone.

Luke stared after him, ice crawling through his veins. He stood there, as if waiting for something else to happen. His thoughts were asunder, he was wracked insensible; he felt witless.

He eyed the hatch door he had come out of, then eyed the way Vader had exited...

He stalled for a moment, deliberating, trying to think...

Then, clutching the blaster in one hand, he went forward, pocketing the glowing remote into a pack on his belt as he followed after Vader.


	14. Chapter 14

So... this chapter took much longer than expected... Sorry about that. But here we go, a new chapter picking up where we left off...

 _—_

* * *

—

Through the corridor, Vader strode with mild speed, keeping track of the other's presence. He knew the young man was in no hurry to catch up to him, having just exited from the former room. He glanced back at him as if to confirm what he sensed. The white armor caught the sheen from the wall lights as it moved. The stormtrooper figure was indeed following him, as he'd ordered.

Vader turned away, continuing his way forward. He kept his senses honed on the one who followed, even though he knew there was no need — the other presence made itself known like a blazing beacon — but he felt the need to monitor it. Unstoppable thoughts filled him, a multitude of doubts, an ever-rising demand for answers...

 _How did the boy get here?_

The vision... its images were still blazing in his mind. The boy had been dragged along with that corpse, refusing to part from it, the fire crawling over him like a hellish hand. Like it was predestined. Something Vader himself could do nothing about.

Yet meanwhile in reality, the boy had come to his aid... had saved his life.

What did it mean?

And _why_ was the boy here?

The droids had obviously failed to fulfill his orders... What had become of them? What had become of Thanoth?

As he walked on, the Dark Lord noticed he was squeezing in his gauntlet fists. He ceased, relaxing them at his sides. He could not display anxiety; he had to remain calm. There was still a remaining rawness in his metal-embedded throat from his near asphyxiation, a disjointed feeling in his artificial limbs...

He would show nothing. He would portray only strength. His physical state was nothing compared to the screaming questions within him, compiled with reactions he refused to act upon: confusion, bafflement... and awe.

His own life had been salvaged by the actions of this boy. His son... who had somehow made his way here in the midst of an ongoing battle. He had shown up suddenly, inexplicably. His son had come to him — certainly not in the way Vader had imagined — but he had come, and he had _helped_ him. Vader had picked up enough to understand what had happened: the young one had taken out Cylo, and brought him back.

It was impossible to not be relieved. Impressed, even... Still, he did feel some resentment. Being immobilized and held at the doctor's mercy was belittling enough, but then to be _rescued..._ This was not how he wanted things to be when he met the boy again. Not to mention what this meant for his plans of collecting and securing his son, how the whole situation was now made more complicated...

But obviously, the Force had made this happen. Cylo's control of his cybernetics had been an unforeseen vulnerability. The Force must have led the boy here in his time of need, bringing them together, aligning their destinies. Vader remembered the murmurs in the living Force he'd felt before, suggesting the boy's presence. How foolish he'd been to dismiss them so quickly...

He continued his stride in the dark hall. The power had been depleted from the level, leaving only a few lumination bars on the walls to show the way. Vader heard the lighter steps from behind. The boy was several feet away, trying to keep his distance. Trying to stay safe.

Suddenly Vader came to a stop and turned on his heels. He looked back at the young one fixedly, waiting for his reaction. The boy slowed in his tracks, taken aback by the sudden attention. His white mask was hiding his trepidation, if only somewhat.

At least it was convenient that the boy was in disguise, Vader thought. Obviously he was trying to not give himself away, keeping silent and pretending to be a mere stormtrooper, one of many that had been assigned to invade the ship. Foolish, he thought, but bold.

The Dark Lord waved a gloved hand, motioning for the young one to come closer. Reluctantly, the boy did so. Vader processed his movements, noticing a certain weakness about him, partially from wounds no doubt, but most certainly from fear. He was letting it hinder him, however much he tried to not let it show. Vader let him make his way closer. He waited patiently.

"So you've come," Vader commented bluntly, looking straight into the plastoid mask. "You are slow to follow orders, trooper... That does not bode well."

The stormtrooper helmet stared at him with its stretched frown. There was an energy coming off the boy — and he took a step forward, but paused. The Dark Lord waited for a response, sensing that the boy was holding back protesting words. But he remained silent. Either he had the sense to hold his tongue or his nerves were getting the better of him. He stood precariously still.

Vader viewed him a moment longer before turning away and continuing his walk. Now he could sense traces of anger intermixing with the young man's fear, stirring in the Force like a heated current. His son's thoughts sprang into his mind:

 _I wasn't too slow to save your_ life _just a minute ago._

Provoked by impulse, Vader came to a halt, the floor-length cape swaying, and he instantly turned to address him.

And before his eyes he saw the white form suddenly become engulfed in fire. Vader's electric breath ushered, and the familiar wave of pain hit him. He stood there, unmoved, isolated in the moment—

And then the vision was gone, as quickly as it came. The white-armored youth stood before him, counfounded, staring at him from the shadows.

Vader's insides wrenched. The vision... it had returned. The Force was persisting with it...

 _Premonitions..._

No. It did not have to be anything more than a dream or manifestation of fear. This vision had spawned from a moment of weakness, a time when he was close to death. It was momentary, an echo of a nightmare — and it was _over_ now. Vader would not linger on it. He could not.

The boy was with him now. Nothing would separate them.

Vader released another breath, inwardly shaking off the effect of the vision, returning to his inhalation pattern. The shock still lulled within him, but he mentally grasped it, morphed it into darkness. He made a stiff turn away from the boy.

"...Do not fall behind," he murmured.

He continued on his way, feeling the boy's uneasiness, but he did as the Dark Lord said.

Now feeling all the more attentive, Vader honed his focus on the young Rebel that followed him... His son carried himself, admittedly, like any stormtrooper in his place would: intimidated, but still blindly obedient. Coming here in disguise, aiding him in his battle with Cylo... What was the boy's intention? Curiosity brimmed in Vader. He knew much about his son, but he had only confronted him once, briefly, before he'd known the full truth...

The two of them had been on opposing sides then. Now...

His thoughts reeled with more questions, but he pushed them aside. Silently, Vader condensed all of this. This was not the time. This was the hour to end the remaining threads left by Cylo, and he would see that through. His desire to finish the accursed scientist was stronger than ever now. The boy was here, whether Vader wanted it or not. Vader would wait for answers. A Sith knew the meaning of patience.

And if the young one was going to go to such lengths to involve himself in this battle, _his_ battle, under the delusion that Vader wouldn't recognize him, so be it. He would let the charade play out... and not let the young one out of his sight as he did so.

Vader brought his attention back to the mission. He needed to reach the higher levels of the ship, that would be where Cylo's lab was, where his backup bodies would be stored.

He passed a rounded corridor, which led to another hall. At the end was an open doorway offering a path of dull light. Vader led the way through, and the darkness subsided as they entered the open area of a modular station. It consisted of steel banks, elevated platforms, and towers connected to transparent, flickering orbs. On the left side there was a turbolift, which Vader headed to without pause. When he reached it, he pressed the access button, and the doors dragged apart slowly.

He stepped inside and stood to the left. He gestured for the young man to enter the lift with him.

Pausing for a few seconds, Luke cautiously stepped inside. He inched himself far to the right, drawing in a deep breath and fidgeting as he stood next to the dark warrior. The doors slid shut.

The lift began to move. In the enclosed space, even as Luke stood to the farthest space away from Vader, the burning coldness that seemed to thrive around him — the same sensation he'd felt since he'd set foot on this strange ship — seemed to intensify. It was like an oppressive fume, roaring energy that kindled in the air, pouring over Luke, pressing into his bones. He couldn't help but shudder. He hated to feel so affected by Vader's presence.

It didn't help that the ride was clunky and slow. Luke guessed the turbolift was running on backup battery power due to the outage. It seemed so unstable Luke wondered if they should be using the lift at all, but Vader showed no concern. Luke watched him out the corner of his visor. The broad form was motionless beside him, the helmet's shell reflecting the dim lighting like black glass. And the face of the mask, with its starved-looking cheekbones and triangular vented mouth... it looked even more alien up close.

The last time he'd seen Vader this close, he had been bent on killing him... and had been a second away from being killed _by_ him.

Darth Vader... his father... standing here, unaware of who he was. Leading him and continuing on in his vendetta to destroy Cylo as if he hadn't just had a near-death experience... one that Luke had rescued him from...

 _What were you expecting?_ _Gratitude?_ Luke chided himself. He really didn't know what he'd expected to happen after finding his father. Perhaps he should've been relieved that Vader was only being stern and indifferent towards him. Someone as mighty as Darth Vader, being rescued by a mere stormtrooper, being seen in that helpless state, kneeling to Cylo... Luke had the not-so-vague feeling that the mechanized man was more annoyed by his presence than anything.

But he was alive. His father was alive, and Luke couldn't deny that that was a relief to him. Coming here had been worth it. Cylo hadn't killed his father, and he couldn't deactivate him now. Luke had made sure of that.

Now all he had to do was pass as a stormtrooper... in Vader's presence... long enough to get out of this. If Vader found him out, there was no telling what would happen. There was too much happening now... He couldn't imagine it...

In that scenario, could he possibly attempt to tell Vader the truth? Would he even _live_ long enough to try? There was no way Vader would believe he was his son. Luke had no proof; it would only sound like he was making up a desperate, crazy story to save himself...

And if Vader somehow _already_ knew... it was more than obvious that it made no difference to him. Vader had tried to kill him several times this past month alone. To think Darth Vader had a son who was a Rebel fighter, who wanted to be a Jedi, who happened to be the very pilot who destroyed the Empire's glorified super-weapon... it was unthinkable. A dismal part of Luke wondered if Vader would only want to kill him _more_ if he knew the truth.

He tried to ignore that thought, dreading it, but it lingered. Gradually he felt his hand nearing his side packet, where he'd stored Cylo's remote, next to the hidden lightsaber carried in his gun holster. He thought for a moment... If things got bad... if he was found out by Vader... if he had to, he could...

Swallowing, he brought his hand back over to his blaster handle, holding the gun with a slack steadiness. No, it wouldn't come to that. If he acted like a stormtrooper, stayed focused, he could make his way out of this, just like he had made his way in. It could work... He could escape... He had accomplished his own mission to the fullest that he could. He had saved his father. That was enough.

It had to be... Luke remembered when he'd left the _Devastator_ less than an hour ago. He'd joined the stormtroopers in the hangar as they hurried into their transports. Things had been in a frenzy, what with the ongoing battle and an ion blast disabling much of the ship's systems. People and droids had been bustling around in wordless haste, and it had been pretty easy to just blend in and join the other stormtroopers without any trouble...

And then before that, at the brig with Thanoth and the droids. _Force be with you,_ Thanoth had said to him as Luke had stepped out of the cell. Luke had nodded, then pressed the lock panel. He remembered Artoo's spasm of bleeps as the doors rammed shut, blocking him from Thanoth and the other droids. For a moment Luke had hesitated, wondering if he should go through with this. He was sure the assassin droids wouldn't hurt Thanoth, they needed him alive. But still...

Yet there was his mission, the real reason he had come all this way in the first place... He had to go. He had to see it through. So he had gone, telling himself he would come back for them. Somehow, he would make his way back.

Now Luke imagined the old, wounded inspector, trapped indefinitely in the brig with two torture droids...

He wished he could trade places with him now.

The lift's motors continued to rattle, accompanied by Vader's incessant rasp. Luke glanced away from him and faced forward, straightened, determined to play the part of a soldier. Calm. He had to stay calm.

 _There's no way he could know it's me,_ Luke thought. _Vader always has stormtroopers around to back him up. That's all I did. He'll think I'm a stormtrooper, just another stormtrooper. I'm safe._

"Trooper," Vader suddenly spoke, his voice flat and level. He didn't look at Luke, but Luke felt he was watching him. "Tell me... where is the _rest_ of your squadron?"

Luke hesitated for a moment. The truth was he didn't know; he'd split from them and went his own way shortly after boarding. Words filled his mouth as he replied.

"I don't know... We were separated." He made his inflection rough and heavy, unrecognizable. He was good at altering his voice.

"And your communications?" Vader pressed.

"Jammed," lied Luke.

Vader inhaled another cold breath, and was quiet. Luke thought he was content with his answer for a moment, but then he continued. "I understand you were sent to dispatch of Cylo's duplicates in his lab."

If this was true, Luke hadn't known. There had been no instructions of any kind when he joined the troops, but he made a sturdy nod anyway. "Yes."

"On whose authority were you sent?"

At a loss, Luke's head raced with possible answers... Why was Vader asking him this? Did he suspect anything? Or was he simply confirming information?

"We weren't briefed by anybody... sir. It was an emergency call," he said, trying to sound diligent. He paused, and then added for good measure, "My squad captain, he could tell you the details."

His father made no response. He continued to stare ahead in his unmoving gaze. Under the helmet, Luke let out a quiet breath.

Finally the lift came to a stop. The doors opened, revealing a vast bright hall ahead with a steel-smooth floor. Gnarled reddish matter made up the walls, and white studs were lighting the semicircle archway on the ceiling.

Vader proceeded, and Luke drifted after him. Luke looked around, anxious to find exits, doors, other paths. He had to find a way out of this, a reason to get away from Vader... He tried to think up excuses for him to go a separate way, for them to split up...

"Speaking... of my squadron... sir," he said, concealing his young voice again. "I should be getting back to them..."

Vader ignored him. He just kept walking on in his purposeful stride. Luke curved his mouth, tempted to repeat himself more loudly — he quickly shut that thought down. He already had an injured throat and a blast wound on his shoulder, not to mention remaining fatigue from Cylo's injections. He didn't need to invite more pain by getting on Vader's nerves.

He looked around the environment more. He couldn't help but gawk at the flesh-like matter growing around the place, stretching like a fungus that had rooted itself to the walls. He had seen the eerie substance before as he'd made his way through the ship, making him feel like he was delving further into the digestive system of some giant beast — which, he guessed, was more or less the reality.

His eyes were drawn to a particularly strange sight amongst it: a large pink boil that hung to the side. It throbbed as they walked past, and Luke nearly coughed in disgust. Vader lifted a hand and it stopped. This place... it was like some surreal amalgamation of two worlds, one that was a pristine technological wonder, the other a twisted organic monstrosity.

 _What is wrong with these people?_ he thought as he passed another pulsating boil, picturing it popping, and thinking of the Rodian-eyed Cylo and the robotic-eyed Voidgazer.

"They are abominations," Vader remarked, making Luke jump and come to a halt. "A fitting domicile... for the likes of them."

Vader kept walking as Luke stared after him. The young man furrowed his eyebrows and inhaled, suddenly hit with a strange sense of transparency, and somehow... it didn't feel new. It was like Vader had responded to his thoughts...

Instantly, he remembered how he had seen into the mind of the giant space slug... If _he_ could do that, surely someone as powerful as Vader...

No, it was just this place and the situation that was unnerving him. He knew he was a novice in the Force, and that Vader had powers of his own, but Vader couldn't possibly... He was just being paranoid...

Transposed out of his thoughts, he suddenly noticed he had inadvertently neared yet another boil. It was squirming rapidly. He made a low groan and backed away, trying to move around it.

Then he stopped... His feet wouldn't move. He looked down, and saw his boots were stuck in a gelatinous pink slime.

His jaw fell behind the mask, and he looked up at Vader, who was going on without him. Luke gripped his leg and tried to pull himself out, but the slime was like a binding glue. He didn't budge. Looking around as he silently panicked, he saw the slime seemed to be oozing out of the boil in a congealing puddle. It moved on the floor as if it was alive.

He was about to try blasting it when Vader paused and turned around. The grim mask stared at Luke as he struggled. Luke stared back, senseless, not knowing what to do. Now he was in for it, he thought...

Then he thought of something... perhaps this was his excuse. He was already slowing Vader down. Surely the Imperial enforcer wouldn't wait for a lowly stormtrooper to get out of a stupid mess like this.

"I'm... stuck," Luke stammered in his fake, gruff voice. "Go on without me, sir."

The ebony helmet tilted up, and Vader's posture slightly slanted in a way that Luke couldn't help but read as "Is _that_ so?" Then Vader lifted a leather hand, his fingers flexing in as if he was crushing something in between them, and Luke felt the goo releasing. It shrunk back from him and retreated to the boil, shriveling up as if it were convulsing in pain.

Luke looked at Vader, completely dumbstruck.

"Do not try my patience, trooper," Vader said coolly. He brought down his hand and balled it into a fist. He whipped back to continue his way forward. "Now come."

Begrudgingly, Luke sighed and gritted his teeth. He once again trailed after Vader, feeling like a beckoned dog.

Continuing on, Vader held the hilt of his lightsaber more tightly. There came a faint rumble that resounded from the distance... likely the young one didn't pick it up with his sensors. It was followed by even more subtle sounds coming from the further quadrants, a jumbling, massive clatter. He sensed the awaiting energies of many beings. Cylo's troops. Devices were activating in the tunneled shafts, a sign of more joining them in their ambush.

His thumb neared the ignition button on his lightsaber. "They are coming," he declared, slowing his pace. "Be ready."

Luke peered around Vader, but saw nothing ahead, only more of the continuous open hallway. He held out his blaster, bearing it readily. The corridor was calm and empty, but he felt undeniably on edge.

Then he saw Vader make a quick turn, ignite his lightsaber, and before Luke could react there came a blaster shot from behind.

It sped past them, and he whirled around ready to shoot, but then stumbled as he was pushed aside — Vader had shouldered him out of the way as he trekked forward to deflect the oncoming shots.

Grimacing and regaining his balance, Luke looked ahead and saw about a dozen men in head gear and green suits, approaching about six yards away. They lined up in the corridor, some kneeling, some aiming from the center, all corralling together. Luke retaliated and shot back, hitting one of them. He dodged as another blue streak came his way, missing his knee. Another zoomed past him, barely missing his helmeted head.

Vader stood his ground, maneuvering his crimson blade. Some of the rays didn't seem to reach within five feet of him, and just burst in midair. Three of the gunmen started running toward them. Vader stretched out his gloved hand and they were repelled back by a violent Force-push, knocking down their fellow soldiers that were flanking for support.

Luke stood staring at this display, if only for a moment. Multiple blasts singed the floor, sparks were flying at his ankles. The fleshy walls were also rupturing from impact, wounded and spilling out green fluid.

"Trooper, cover me from behind," Vader ordered him, waving a hand for him to move.

Luke was flabbergasted. "From _behind?_ But they're coming from —"

More shots soared their way — now from the opposite direction. Luke turned and saw another group of armored men approaching, coming from the opposite side of the hall.

"We're surrounded," Luke gasped, drawing back and ducking from another blast. "What do we..."

Vader regarded him, then brought his focus back on the other troop. "Press on."

 _Press on? There's nowhere to 'press on' to!_ Luke thought in dismay. He was about to aim his rifle again when a blast struck his plated arm. He grunted and clutched the injured spot.

 _"Fight_ , trooper," he heard Vader say, grating out the words.

Luke compressed his lips. Then, overcome by a sudden, riled feeling, he jogged forward and with a steady, precise grip he found himself aiming directly at the shooter who had wounded him. He pulled the trigger and fired. The red beams of his rifle hit the man in the chest and he fell.

A furious stamina was filling him, running on pure, thoughtless instinct. The storm of blue bolts was relentless as they came from all sides, and Luke sidestepped, dodged, and sprinted out of the way as best he could. The side of his helmet was grazed by another beam, but he saw he was somehow avoiding any more direct hits. The men aimed at him over and over, but their shots wouldn't land. They seemed to falter and steer off course.

Luke looked back at Vader. He was still blocking and defending his side, and gradually clearing out the enemies. Luke could only keep standing and firing; he was taking a few of them out, but the amount of blasterfire was overwhelming, almost blinding. His burst of resilience was starting to dwindle. He backed away as the torrent continued — until he found he had bumped into Vader. Vader paid no mind, and remained as steadfast as ever, completely absorbed in the onslaught, his saber a veil of red as he blocked the darts of light.

Luke likewise stayed rooted where he was, feeling an unspoken synergy as he stood back-to-back with Vader, shooting at the soldiers on one end while Vader fought off the attacks on the other.

Luke breathed fervently. He didn't know what to do... How long could they keep this up? They were clearly outnumbered... The space was too confined, they were blocked in, and there was nowhere to escape, no corners or objects to use as cover...

Suddenly a shot hit him in the leg, the heat searing through the plastoid into his skin. Luke yelped and hissed from the nerve-stricken pain. He shuffled over to the flesh wall and leaned on it.

Vader swiveled around and scanned him. The young man was trying to recover, to not limp, looking like he was on the verge of collapsing. Vader automatically raised his saber to him, then stopped himself, staying his hand from delivering a deathblow — as he would for any stormtrooper who was too wounded to fight. Instead, he looked back at the group the boy had been facing. He lifted a hand, spread out his fingers, and the gunmen were all hurled back as if struck by a wrathful wind.

Vader barely registered the continuing shots that came from behind, pattering on his back and helmet. He saw the men on the ground still moving. Again he reached out with the Force. He called on the fungal slime that was nearby, summoned it, commanded it to his will, and it slunk around the men. As they panicked from being stuck in the substance, Vader redirected the rays that continued to come from the left side, letting them kill some of their fellows.

He deflected another shot from behind, and the shot hit a small bundle of explosives one of the men on the other side had been carrying. The whole troop was obscured in an outburst of white light.

The other group ceased fire, the remaining soldiers stricken at the sight. They began to retreat, and Vader was set to pursue them, but he stopped — he felt the boy's gaze on him. He looked at him, and saw the boy pressing himself against the wall, watching him intently. Even with the helmet guise, Vader could tell he was stupefied, not fully understanding what had just happened. Dread radiated from him, but also a glint of awe.

Vader raised an eyebrow and lifted his chin. He felt a wave of satisfaction as he sensed the boy's dazed curiosity. His son had just witnessed power... a mere glimpse of the power of the dark side.

Thuds came from the distance, the sound of footsteps starting to fade away. The survivors were retreating.

Vader snapped his attention back to them. The Dark Lord passed the young man and marched on, his lightsaber blaring in hand.

Luke stared after him. Luke saw the faraway figures of the gunmen being lifted, thrown, pushed to the ceiling and walls, sliced and struck through by the glowing blade. Slams and screams echoed along the passage, and Vader's form was lost in a cover of growing smoke.

Holding his injured arm and feeling his chest pounding under the armor, Luke stood there for a moment, overlooking the massacre. He looked back the other way. Flames were spreading everywhere, crackling over blackened shapes lying still on the stained floor, smoldered debris mixed with alloy and green gunk.

He squeezed his eyes shut, a tremor passing through his ribs. His eyes scoured around to search for another route to go...

There were none. He slumped his shoulders and began walking, ignoring the burning in his leg as he pressed down on it. He held out his blaster, even though he saw no need, and stepped around the felled bodies, trying not to look at them or the many detached limbs on the ground. He just walked forward, onward, into the grey mist.

Up ahead, as the Dark Lord cut down the fleeing troopers, he picked up the rush of questions running in the young one's mind:

 _What have I gotten myself into..._ _Why is he helping me... Why didn't he just let me die...  
_

Vader could've asked the boy the same thing.


	15. Chapter 15

Sorry, again, for the long wait — I'll try to get the next chapter done sooner.

Until then, here's more of the continuing misadventures of Darth Father and Luke Skytrooper. Thanks again for all the continued support for this story, and I hope you continue to enjoy it. :)

 _—_

* * *

—

Sparks were leaking out of a panel light on the ceiling, and several of the fallen forms were still smoking.

As he made his way through the hall, Luke tried to ignore the pain in his leg. He stopped and leaned to the side, looking ahead of the aisle. He couldn't even see Vader now, there was still so much billowing smoke... He tuned in with his helmet's lifeform scanners to double-check... He saw nothing.

And still, he noticed there were no doors to escape through...

He drew in a breath and continued his slow walk down the hall. He held his stinging hand, his skin now exposed through the black glove. It wasn't too bad — it was his leg that was slowing him down. Every time he put weight on it, it felt like his tissue was tearing from the inside out. He writhed again as he moved it.

He couldn't keep going like this. He looked in the pouches of his utility belt and, to his relief, found a small carton of edible bacta gels. He scarfed down three of them, and gradually felt a small, subtle numbness. The pain wasn't gone, but it was bearable.

He continued, nearly tripping on another body. He then avoided the slices of a heat pipe and some slippery ooze on the floor — all part of the trail of destruction Vader had left in his wake. Luke made a sigh.

Then he paused; something caught his eye on the right side of the wall... The outlines of a door!

He checked the area around him. Not spotting any sign of Vader, he made his way towards it. Maybe now he could finally get out of here, he thought, finally get away from—

There was a _swish_ as the door automatically opened, and before him stood Vader, holding his red blade, his cold breath sharp and loud.

Luke jumped and withdrew. The Dark Lord approached, slowly easing into the hall like a black wind. The helmet inched down as Vader surveyed Luke, the doors closing behind him, shutting away the room where two men lay dead.

"The opposition has been dealt with. I have seen to it," Vader said matter-of-factly. "The other stormtroopers have likely found the labs by now. We will join them."

Luke repressed a sigh. _He_ had seen to it... As if Luke had just been lazing about while Vader had started cutting people down left and right. How could Luke have done anything more than he did? It felt like Vader was gloating. And Luke couldn't help but feel that Vader had stopped him from escaping on purpose, suddenly appearing from behind that door just when he'd approached it...

Vader's attention snapped to him all of a sudden, as if he had just noticed something. The light reflected in the dark gem-like eyes of the mask, making them look more alive. Feeling that familiar sensation that the Dark Lord had some power to see through him, Luke swallowed and tried to ignore the feeling. He remained still.

Vader lifted his saber, and gingerly moved it towards him. Again, Luke stepped back. His heart raced as the bright blade hummed in between them. What was this? A threat?... Did Vader suspect something? Had he found him out?

"You are fortunate that you still stand before me," Vader said. His intoned voice was steely. "Your slowness is detrimental, but I do _not_ tolerate soldiers who question my orders. If I tell you to cover me from behind, _you_ _do_ _so._ You do not question. Seconds wasted in battle result in instant death _, your_ death, one way or the other. Is that understood, trooper?"

Luke stood, the lightsaber burning before him, its lethal light inches from his chest. Luke clenched and unclenched his fist, fidgeting to reach for his own lightsaber and ward off the other with a sudden swing. But he crinkled his mouth and merely replied, "Yes, sir."

Vader turned off his weapon and the red light doused. He gestured for Luke to follow.

They went on until they reached a round hatch door. Vader stood aside and waited. Luke caught on: he was meant to enter first. It was known that Vader sometimes sent troops ahead to take the brunt of any force awaiting. Frowning, Luke walked through, hearing Vader's coarse breath behind him.

They walked into what looked like some kind of generator area. The interior had many working power hubs, tanks for fuel, and large pumps strewn for several feet. Silver indicator lights flashed on many running devices. There was only one other door in the whole place, consisting of a viewport that radiated a pale red light coming from another room.

Luke stopped in his tracks at the sight of it.

"Wait." He turned to Vader and stepped around him, blocking his way. "Maybe... maybe there's another way we could go. I can search for another route, sir."

The skeletal mask stared at him, and Luke felt certain there was a glare behind it.

"No," Vader retorted. "Any other route would mean unnecessary backtracking."

He sidestepped around Luke and went on, heading to the door with the red light. Immediately Luke rounded and went after him.

"Sir, you... do you know what's beyond that door?"

Vader growled impatiently. "It is the fastest way to the labs."

Luke raised his head, thinking. Was he worried for nothing? Had Vader been here before? He couldn't help wondering if Vader actually knew where he was going... but something told him Vader was only going by a hunch.

"But you don't... _know_ that for sure," Luke muttered.

Vader made no response. He marched on without pause.

Luke tried again. "Sir, we _can't_ go—"

 _"Silence."_ Vader halted, and he turned to Luke, who made a start. "Perhaps you think _more_ of Cylo's henchmen await beyond that door? You are _afraid_. Your injuries slow you down. Perhaps you wish to retreat, then, trooper. To run away and _flee_ for your life."

Vader's tone was mocking, reproachful, and Luke felt himself shrink under his gaze. For wasn't much of what he said true? He _had_ been trying to slip away, to find a reason to flee... And it didn't help that this was his own father standing here, basically calling him a coward...

But at the same time, Luke felt a spike of incredulity. It wasn't Cylo's men, or pain, or danger that he'd been trying to get away from, it was Vader. And he had _saved_ Vader. For him to brush off Luke's precautions and injuries was one thing, but to scoff at him like this?

"No," Luke responded evenly, bringing up his gaze. "It's just... maybe there's another way we could—"

"I do not tolerate weakness," Vader snapped. He pointed his gloved finger at Luke, jabbing it at him with emphasis. "You will _endure._ You will _obey._ You are a trooper of the Galactic Empire. Act like one, or I will act fast in _dealing_ with you."

The Dark Lord swerved away and continued on, heading to the large exit door.

His temper rising, Luke let out a strained breath. He balled up a fist and exclaimed, "If you go past that door, you're going to _die!"_

The dark figure stopped. Vader made no move. Balking at his own outburst, Luke fumbled to find the words to follow up on.

"I... passed this area when I was separated from my team," he said, holding up a hand. "On the other side is a tower with an electromagnetic pulse running at its core. An energy field is guarding it. When I got close to that door, my helmet went berserk. Then everything went out, my scanners, my comlink, everything."

Vader eyed the broad viewport on the door, viewing the red light that was coming through.

Luke took a step closer. "It took a while to get them working again. And with your... condition... it might shut down your systems. And I'm guessing you've had enough of that for one day, so how about we skip this and find another way to the lab?"

Luke made a slight wince as the words left his mouth. What was he thinking, bringing up Vader's weakness? Talking to him that way? He'd heard of Vader making quick work out of subordinates for much less than a passive snippet of sarcasm. This wasn't Han he was answering to — this was Darth Vader!

But Vader himself seemed to pay no mind. He was watching the door as if transfixed, and stayed silent for a long time.

"A security measure," Vader finally affirmed, still peering at the door. "Transient electromagnetic disturbance. I recognize the design. Likely there will be another entry in the tower room, also locked and shielded."

He then moved and continued to walk towards the door. Luke gawked after him in dismay.

"But... I just said..." He trailed off.

Vader didn't answer. Uneasily, Luke followed. As he did so, static started appearing on his helmet's visuals, and shrieking noise rattled in Luke's ears. He hurried to turn off his helmet and his other armor-equipped devices. His visor became shrouded, but it was still visible enough for him to navigate.

Vader showed no sign of taking any action at all. He just kept heading towards the door.

 _Right, head straight to the thing I just said could kill you,_ Luke thought, embittered, but he felt a nervous twinge in the pit of his stomach.

"You were correct," Vader said as he came to a stop in front of the door. He adjusted one of the many dials on his belt. "I am experiencing a slight interference. It is minor. My armor has more layers than your flimsy plastic plating."

He studied the locked panel at the side of the entryway. Then in a flash, he ignited his saber and ran it across the blinking box. He lifted a gloved hand and the door burst open. Before them, a few feet away, was the red laser barrier. It spread from the floor to the ceiling and was nearly transparent, revealing a clear view of the tall tower further in. The shining structure stood out like an oversized antenna, waves of electricity trickling around its power core.

"As I suspected, the other door is also shielded," Vader commented, and sure enough Luke saw just past the tower was another doorway, also emitting an identical laser shield. "Destroying the barrier controls will only activate further, more enforced mechanisms. They must be deactivated delicately. The pulse is... very potent, the closer one gets to the source." Vader paused for a moment. "You have an idea. Speak it."

Luke turned to look at him. He wondered if he should say what was on his mind, even at Vader's request. But he spoke.

"Well... if we can find a way past the barrier... then I can go in. I can make my way through, and disable the tower."

"And you would do this how?"

Luke lifted an eyebrow under his mask. How hard could it be to just shut the thing off? Did Vader think he was _that_ useless? "I'll figure it out."

"Hmm," Vader rumbled. Luke stood there waiting, feeling a strange mixture of nervousness and impatience. He knew it shouldn't matter to him, being right, being useful, but he was determined to make this work, to show that he wasn't deadweight...

He waited, wondering what Vader was thinking as the quietness prolonged. The fume that surrounded his father was like a thick cloud. He tried to tune into it, to see beyond the shadow that encompassed him. He felt his father's focus, sharp and steady, but there was a murky veil to his thoughts...

"Very well," Vader said at last, breaking Luke's concentration. "You will go. But first, the barrier."

Luke looked left and right, seeing no controls of any kind for the energy barrier. He also saw dead-ends on both sides of the small subhallway. "Right. Do you think it needs an access code, or...?"

Vader approached the nearest side wall that enclosed the barrier, the rosy light reflecting on his black armor. He stretched a leather hand at a point on the sleek surface, pressed down, twisted his fingers as if winding something up, and a small hatch popped open. He pressed some buttons inside, pulled out a wire, and Luke watched him, engrossed at this sudden display of technical know-how.

But he noted Vader's breath was slower as it drew in and out. The pulse was having more of an effect on him than he'd led on.

"Sir," he said tentatively. "Are you—"

The barrier flickered and then disappeared. Luke made a start.

"Go," Vader said, still concentrating on the device. "It will only hold for a short time. I will work on shutting the barrier systems down permanently while you disable the tower."

Luke hesitated. There was an odd tightness to Vader's voice that was definitely not normal...

"But what if you —"

 _"Now,_ trooper. That is an _order_."

Luke swallowed his uncertainty and made a nod. With that, he dashed into the tower room — and heard the barrier buzz back to life behind him, the laser energy missing his ankles by an instant.

He looked at the tall, spindly tower. It looked like a thousand volts were being pumped into it, channeled from its many spires into its maw-like center. Anxiously, Luke looked around to find any controls. But he saw none, no stations or computers, no switches. But what he did see were some brackets on the tower's side that formed a series of steps leading upward.  
 _  
Right,_ Luke thought to himself as he looked up at the light-spewing tower. _Just turn the thing off... How hard can it be?_

The intense light hovering over him, he took hold of the bracket and began to make his way up. Foot by foot he climbed, trying not to falter, his fingers trembling as he gripped the ringed handles.

He continued until at last he reached the ledge of a railing just feet below the tower's center. He brought himself up and crouched, feeling another throb in his leg before standing up. There was a set of switches and buttons at the stationary area, but there was no telling what could power the thing down; none of the tools had any indications of what they did. He eyed the biggest lever and turned it to the right. As he did, the flashing ball of electromagnetic energy seemed to grow, humming loudly and sending out spiraling volts.

With this, he heard Vader suddenly bellow from the distance, followed by a loud pound that came against the wall, as if by a fist. Heart racing, Luke forced the lever to the far left, pushing it as far as it would go. The pulsing light began to ebb. He felt a rush of pressure in his chest, imagining what the upped power must have done to Vader, and wondering for a moment if he should quit and go back.

He hesitated, looking over the stationary, and fiddled with other controls, trying to find something that would turn the whole thing off. Nothing seemed to do it. At last he decided to leave things as they were before he caused more harm, and began climbing down.

After he settled back on the ground, he had barely taken a step away from the tower when he heard a familiar flickering noise. He saw the red shield disappear. Vader had brought the barrier systems down.

The dark figure appeared from behind the wall, facing him across the now-clear path. Luke was still. He reached up to his helmet... There was the slightest static in the auditory pick-up, but his sensors were functioning. Relieved, he shuffled over to Vader.

"It's not disabled, but I turned it down to its lowest setting," he supplied. "It was pretty high before, so it should be okay. You might have some interference, but I'm not getting anything but a bit of static."

Vader walked over to him. He moved without falter, and his breathing, Luke noticed, wasn't strained. He didn't seem impaired at all...

 _Stop worrying_ _,_ Luke berated himself. Then the corners of his mouth lifted into a gratified smile. _That's twice you've saved him now._.. _How's that for a fleeing, useless coward?  
_

But as Vader watched him, he felt the smile melt away. He couldn't help but feel exposed as that deathly mask peered at him... It then occurred to him that Vader was probably angry. He had caused Vader pain, even if it was by accident, and he had failed to turn off the machine... Was Vader going to make him pay?

But Vader made no reproach or threat. Instead he hurried forward and ambled past Luke, and once again gestured for him to follow. The young man slouched his shoulders but obeyed the wordless order.

They passed the room and came into a bare corridor. For a while there was nothing but the sound of their echoing footsteps and the constant spell of respiration coming from the Dark Lord.

As they walked, Luke tried to speculate what could be in store for them. They were going to face Cylo, or rather, a _number_ of Cylos... There was no telling what would happen. Feeling anxious, he brought out his blaster and kept a mild hold on it, and darted his eyes at his father — also realizing that he was now walking side-by-side with him instead of just following — and Vader turned, as if noticing this.

"What?" Luke said, after trying not to ignore his gaze. "Is something wrong, sir?"

Vader stared at him a moment longer before returning his attention to the path ahead. Only his mechanical hiss answered Luke.

"I didn't mean to do that, by the way," Luke found himself saying. "Turning the power up. I thought I could just... An EMP unit isn't that complicated — but I've never... really seen one like that up close, with a converted output, and all those controls that I couldn't really... figure out... and... I apologize for any inconvenience I caused. It wasn't on purpose, it really wasn't."

His voice wavered and again he regretted his words. _I sound like_ _an inept, blathering idiot,_ he thought. He almost wouldn't blame Vader if he did away with him right now.

Vader turned his head and observed him. "You are quite... vocal... for a stormtrooper."

"I apologize, sir," Luke said quietly.

"One need not normally apologize for contributing to success. Your actions have saved us time. Our mission will soon be complete because of them."

Luke looked at the gaunt face of the metallic mask. _Our mission..._ Days ago, his mission had been to save his father from this man. Now he was working _with_ him, the two of them working together, now after _his_ rival...

Then again... was Cylo only his father's enemy? The scientist had deceived Luke, captured him, toyed with him, mercilessly shared the truth to him about his father, tossed it out like it was nothing... His memory reverted back to Thanoth, scrutinizing him, trying to deduce Luke's motive for wanting to sneak aboard Cylo's ship...

Was revenge something he legitimately wanted? He didn't know. He felt a strange hollowness at the thought.

"Conviction, trooper," he heard Vader say suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. The deep voice was urging, almost lecture-like. Luke was abashed. It really was like Vader _knew_ what he was thinking, what he was feeling... Why couldn't he shake off that feeling?

"You have many concerns," Vader went on. "You need not have. What you need, trooper, is to have _faith._ There will be _no failure_. There is _no room_ for doubt. The scientist must pay for all he has done... Today, Cylo will meet his end. We will triumph... You shall see." The mask looked at him, dark red lenses meeting the stormtrooper's jet-black. "The Force is with us."

Luke felt his nerves grow cold.

 _The Force will_ never _be with you, boy._

Memories of Cymoon 1 blew back to him. Him and Vader, facing each other for the first time...

 _You are not worth the_ seconds _it would take to finish you._

His insides clouded up, confusion absorbing him. Despite everything, despite the unbelievable situation he was in, he wanted to feel some assurance from Vader's words... and he wanted to scoff at Vader's words too. He wanted to fight Vader. He wanted to ask Vader everything he was longing to know, tell him everything, the whole truth...

Luke sighed to himself, feeling the sweat sliding down his warm face. To Vader, he simply said, "If you... say so, sir."

Suddenly Vader made a preemptive halt, as if compelled.

"You do not believe in the Force?" he said lowly, his black form motionless as he faced the durasteel door.

Unprepared for the question, Luke's thoughts jumbled with haste before he replied. "I... don't know much about it."

 _I'm just a stormtrooper, after all,_ he declared silently, as if to reassure himself. _Just a stormtrooper. I wouldn't know, would I?_

Vader was quiet for a while, standing there in his grounded stillness. Then he tilted his head upward, and asked, "Do you believe in destiny, trooper?"

Again, Luke was taken aback. "I... I don't think about such things, sir."

Vader remained still, as if in deep thought. His silence was almost more unsettling than when he showed outright malice, Luke thought. It was like he was listening for something, waiting for something to incite his anger.

Without preamble, Vader lifted an arm and pressed the entrance panel. The doors opened and he walked through, at a faster pace than usual.

They entered a spacious area, comprised of metallic walls to the front and back. The only passage was provided by a single broad bridge spanning over the large expanse. To the sides was a chasm-like emptiness. Vader proceeded to the bridge and Luke traveled over it with him. He looked around, seeing beyond the gantries to the depths below. Beneath them was a pit of steaming yellowish liquid, welling out of a set of large tubes. The unknown fluid was bubbling with a hot, acidic hiss.

Luke tried to ignore the shade of dread settling over him. Something... seemed wrong here...

There was a loud humming noise, and the bridge's deck rumbled. Red barriers flew up in front of both of the doorways. The bridge dislodged from the center and started to split in two.

"What the—" Luke blurted, and soon became unbalanced from the shaking under his feet. He tried in vain to stable himself, but found himself veering off towards the edge. He was tumbling over, his boot left the hard steel, he could see the view of the yellow pit below—

A firm grip took his shoulder, pulled him back, then let go in one swift motion. Luke staggered where he was, his helmet now crooked around his neck, mashing into his face and obscuring his vision. He straightened his helmet, and saw the mechanical bridge was still separating bit by bit, retracting into the walls.

"The controls are disabled," Vader said beside him as they were moved along with the platform. "The entire bridge will soon be reduced to nothing. There is no time to bring the shields down. We must hurry."

He looked up. Then he made a slight sprint forward, and kicked off into the air. Held by the Force, he soared for a moment, his cloak and robes swaying as he leapt over the long stretch of the declining bridge. He landed with a heavy thud at the edge of a large vent opening, high above the shielded door. He turned, seeing the boy gaping at him from the distance below.

"Be still," he exclaimed, and he raised a hand to lift him with the Force.

But the young one didn't seem to be listening — he was reaching for something on his belt — a grappling hook. He tossed it up, successfully clasping it around a rafter support. He then hoisted himself up on the line, his boots leaving the platform's edge, seconds away from slipping. The bridge continued without him and was soon completely gone.

Vader dropped his hand. He watched as the boy climbed his way up the line. He reached the height of the vent, then began to sway back and forth. He swung straight across and let go. Vader backed away to make room and the boy landed in front of him. Breathing in and out, the boy found his footing and then began to reel the line back in a hurry.

He turned, looking at Vader for a moment as he secured the grappling hook back onto his belt. Then, somewhat sheepishly, he moved around him. He then kicked down the ventilation frame, and proceeded into the duct.

Vader stared after him. The boy didn't look back.

"Hmm," the Dark Lord murmured, and he followed the boy into the darkness.

He had to admit... taking the young one with him was proving to be less of a burden than he'd thought. He couldn't deny that he was surprising him as they faced these obstacles, minor as they were. His act to pass as a stormtrooper was deplorable... but this was good, in a way. All the displays of strength — and weakness— that he saw from the boy made Vader want to observe him and teach him all the more.

They traveled through the tunnel, Vader still musing as he allowed the boy to guide the way. The small space was confining, and he had to hunch as he went. The huge upper vents dispersed harsh presses of cool air, pulling back at his cape.

The way became less dark the further they went. They reached another square opening where something was lit ahead. The boy looked back at him and Vader made a nod, permitting him to enter. Again the boy forced the vent down, and he jumped off. Vader followed, his boots smacking the concrete floor.

The room was densely black and cavernous. There were elaborate pillars set near the walls, lined with neon patterns that radiated the only light in the room. Seeing the boy tune his helmet so he could see, Vader walked ahead, resuming his lead as the two of them proceeded.

Then Vader slowed in his steps. He felt a pull — the Force twisted in an uncertain haze.

He moved forward, ignited his lightsaber, and two cloaked figures emerged, jumping down from the ceiling. There was a sharp resounding crackle. Then another. Two colored blades lit adjacently. Vader tightened his grip of his own lightsaber. Behind him, he heard the boy step away in alarm.

The Dark Lord raised his weapon. "Astarte twins."

"Vader," Morit seethed out, his round face glowing by light of his orange blade. He and his sister veered toward Vader, neither seeming to notice the stormtrooper-clad figure behind him. _"Finally,_ a real fight... The old versus the new. No rules to get in the way this time. No Emperor to call it off."

"It is not I that need saving, abomination. Not then or now."

"We will see, won't we?" Aiolin challenged, holding out her blade.

Beside her, Morit pointed his saber in a provoking twirl. "Come on, you old relic, try your best. Let's see how great—"

The red blade swooped down, aiming for his neck. Morit jumped away and clashed sabers with the Dark Lord. Aiolin's green saber then came from the side, and missed as Vader disengaged from her brother and then swatted away her attempt. He met the twins' swift daggering movements, staying rooted in his stance, then sent them both away with a push of the Force.

Determined, the young one suddenly rushed forth, and aimed at them with his blaster — but nothing happened.

 _"What?"_ His finger incessantly pulled at the trigger, but nothing came out... The pulse had affected his gun. Vader saw the boy had forgotten to shut it off when he entered the tower room. Panicking, the boy stood there at a loss.

"This is the end," Morit smiled, and Vader saw him and his sister getting back on their feet, both still ignoring the boy. "Time for the old model to be sent to the compacter."

Vader glared as the twins began to circle him, both spinning their heated blades. They started to close in on him. Vader gripped the hilt of his weapon, ready to take them on.

Just then, Aiolin seemed to notice something out the corner of her eye. She turned her head. In a matter of seconds, while still spinning her blade in one hand, she aimed her other hand at the boy, and out came a set of missiles from her forearm.

Vader began to dart to the boy's defense, but Morit stopped him with a stab to his shoulder plate. Metal and sparks flew. Vader let out a furious growl and drove his own blade down to Morit's shoulder, successfully slicing off his arm.

As Morit recoiled in pain, Vader glimpsed at the young one. He was now on the ground, groaning, clearly having suffered a blow from Aiolin. He leaned against a glowing pillar as she scowled down at him. She swung her saber high over her head, ready to strike.

Vader reached out a hand with the Force — but it was too late.

There was a bright flash and the sound of spitting light. The green lightsaber had been blocked — by his son's newly-wielded blue blade.


	16. Chapter 16

Vader watched as the boy held tight of his lightsaber, barring it in a desperate show of defense.

The girl, wide-eyed at the sight of the saber in the stormtrooper hands, looked like she was considering backing away for a moment, but her eyes narrowed, and she pressed her blade against his, aiming for the mouthpiece of the boy's mask. He held on to the silver hilt for dear life, trying to ward her off, but he was clearly outmatched.

Vader assisted him from the distance, creating a rift between their sabers with the Force. The girl began to pull away.

He sensed his own opponent from behind, and he turned to meet Morit's orange saber with his own. Melted wires and sparks peeked out of Morit's stumped bicep as he one-handedly persisted in a series of quick but feeble attacks. His pale face furled as Vader blocked his attempts, then Force-pushed him back. He blocked the lasers Morit shot from his blackened cybernetic wrist, and again the Dark Lord glanced over to check on the boy's predicament.

The young one was barely holding on, the searing heat of the two sabers a breath away from his ivory helmet. Then Aiolin suddenly broke free of the deadlock, and tried to deliver an indirect stab from the side. Vader called on the Force to aid the boy again, but the young man rolled away just in time and her blade only hit the glowing pillar.

Engrossed and curious to see how the young one fared, he watched for a few seconds as the boy crawled, ducked her diagonal strike, and rounded to defend himself. He waved his lightsaber at her in a frenzy, all while struggling to prop himself up from his knees. Aiolin, staring warily at him, caught his blade. She held it away long enough to deliver a hard kick to his chestplate.

He fell on his back, dropping the lightsaber, and the azure brightness disappeared.

" _Face me, Sith!"_

Morit leered back at him, and swept his saber in front of the black mask, obscuring Vader's view.

"Everyone has to face the _future,"_ Morit said more quietly, his round face creasing with resolve. "Now you look upon _yours."_

Contempt for the arrogant cyborg swelled in him, and Vader swung his blazing sword, missing Morit's head, just brushing over the top of his red hair. Morit dashed back and suddenly rose from the ground, hovering near the ceiling with the jet-like flares emitting from his soles. He pointed down with his one intact hand, and gusts of fire roared from his palm.

Vader, impatience now overruling his anger, shielded himself with the Force, Morit's flames swaying around him. He oversaw the Astarte girl, making her way closer to the boy...

Enough was enough. Vader aimed and threw his saber, and a dial of red spun across the distance toward Morit. Morit shielded his head and torso, ready for it, but let out a scream. He descended. His legs were now cut off from the knees.

The yellow flares on his feet died as he crashed down, the dark chamber flashing with blinks of white as his various endoskeleton circuits were exposed, spritzing out whiffs of heat. Morit scratched the floor as he lay flat on his stomach. He looked up at Vader, eyes sore with defiance.

"No," he gargled out. "I _won't_ die... not to _you..._ I r-refuse..."

Vader placed his boot upon Morit's skull. "You are already gone."

He summoned back his lightsaber and wielded it downwards.

 _"No!"_

Aiolin's blade cropped up, twirling before him like an emerald fan. Vader parried and backed away, feigning disadvantage as he allowed her to drive him back, her usually composed face lit with ferocity. Interrupting her flurry of movement, the Dark Lord brought his blade down on her wrist, cutting it off. She grunted heavily through her teeth, her lightsaber smacking somewhere in the distance. The girl just managed to dodge as the scarlet stream of his saber targeted her again and again.

She whisked away. In a matter of seconds, Vader saw the girl fly off, skirting above the stony surface of the floor, towards her brother. She scooped him up in her arms, then shot a couple of bolts at a set of pillars. She faded into the darkness as the columns began to break.

The boy scrambled to get out of the way as a large pillar began to plummet down, but he was hardly moving. Vader grabbed at him with the Force, and he was pulled back several feet towards the wall. The pillar crashed on the ground with a hard rumble. Above, part of the ceiling had caved in and was snapping, letting loose some shattered fragments.

There was brittle crumbling. Softer sounds of settling debris followed. It was silent.

Vader looked over to the boy. He sat a few feet away from him, almost huddling in a fetal position, his back turned. The boy stood up and moved around, his legs wobbling, the white dome of the stormtrooper helmet swaying slightly as he moved. The boy peered around the area, as if to make sure the twins were really gone.

"Where..." He let out heavy breaths as he searched the darkness. "Where did they..."

Then he turned around, and looked straight at Vader.

Luke froze. The muscles in his neck tensed as he tried to swallow, and an eruption of thoughts spilled from his mind.

 _The lightsaber... he saw me with the lightsaber... It's over, he knows it's me, I'm going to die..._

Vader looked back at his son, still facing that pointless white mask. The disquieting air lingered between them, trickling with the boy's frenzied thoughts and feelings. Dread, panic, helplessness, burning questions... Vader felt gripped, wanting to read as much as he could. The boy's emotions were uncontained, practically screaming at him; the boy had no idea how much he was broadcasting through the Force. Vader let it settle into his own mind, collected like pages in a condensed volume.

He opened his hand, and the boy's lightsaber flew to him. He studied it, ran his fingers on the familiar surface. Made of the same metal as his Sith blade, with the same button placements, same emitter shape, only bare and silver. Same handgrip ridges.

He ignited it alongside the red saber, instantly recalling his time on Cymoon 1 when he'd easily Force-lifted the boy's weapon into his hand. He had ignited it next to his own lightsaber, just like this, aiming to end the nameless youth... before he'd realized this same lightsaber had once been _his._

The sound of his respirator was nearly drowned out by the loud whir of the combined blades. He stared remotely at the young man between their contrasting light. The boy stood completely still as if mesmerized.

Luke's electronic visuals were out, but he could clearly see it: Vader holding the blue and red lightsabers, side by side. Just like he had when they first encountered each other on Cymoon 1.

He waited for some sound, some reaction from Vader. He couldn't move. A tremor overcame his jaw as he tried in vain to say something.

Vader wanted to break the silence, to take some action, but he felt strangely perpetuated in the moment. This crucial, inevitable moment in this whole one-sided charade. He had hoped the young one would let something slip, that he'd show himself... yet he realized he had been mistaken to press for it, even subtly, here and now. This chain of events, the many questions they both longed to know from one another, it was all... unprecedented. Out of place. The time was not right.

And now he knew he had to gather his thoughts, avert from the young one and remember his own self. They were in the under-levels of Cylo's ship, in the middle of an ongoing battle. The boy was in no state to grasp the bigger picture. Vader had to decide now, the best way to proceed, for both of them.

"You require a weapon," he said lowly. He placed a finger on the power button of the blue lightsaber and the bar of light vanished. "You may... continue to use this one."

He threw the silver hilt back at him, and the boy flinched and fumbled to catch it. Luke's eyes panned from the weapon in his hands to the Dark Lord before him. Under the helmet, his moist brow pressed in confusion.

Vader shifted and roamed to the left side of the dark area. Holding his red blade, he walked over the dusty wreckage, and his form was absorbed into the blackness.

Luke looked after him in disbelief.

"W-Wait a minute," Luke began, his voice nearly cracking through the vocoder. He took a step forward, seeing only the crimson streak of Vader's saber. "I'm... You're not—"

"Be silent." The mechanical growl echoed throughout the hollow chamber, sounding like the disembodied warning of a ghost. "I will lead the way. You will follow."

The words hit him and Luke leaned his head back. _You will follow._ As if nothing had happened, as if everything was the same as before. Luke was just a stormtrooper, lagging behind Vader once again.

He stayed still where he was, his head spinning. He didn't understand... Was it possible that Vader _didn't_ know who he was? Surely seeing the _lightsaber_... the way he'd wielded it... Or was Luke thinking too much of their encounter on Cymoon 1? Maybe it all meant nothing to Vader... And the lightsaber... perhaps even that was excusable. He knew it was possible for a stormtrooper to possess one, and the situation being what it was, perhaps Vader didn't recognize it. Perhaps Vader didn't even care if it _was_ the same Rebel standing before him, posing as a stormtrooper...

But why? How? Luke just couldn't believe it. It all felt wrong. There was too much happening, too much to know. He couldn't go back to pretending to be Vader's minion. There was something else going on...

"No," Luke said to him, watching the red rod that was Vader's lightsaber become still in the dark. Vader's ushered breath drafted in and out like a grinding breeze.

"Very well," came his reply after a few seconds. "If you wish to stay here until you are discovered, so be it. Your life is yours to throw away."

" _Why?"_ Luke suddenly yelled, his real voice carrying through the stone walls, wailing and reverberating as if there were a dozen Lukes. "The lightsaber... Why didn't you..."

There was a scraping noise on the ground as Vader moved, and the mask reappeared in his sight, outlined by the red glow, the chest and belt units flickering in the black depths. The Dark Lord stared at him, his automatic breathing more quiet, but he said nothing.

"Tell me," Luke persisted, his throat cramping, and he took a step forward. "Tell me why you... why you didn't—"

There was a faint bleeping. A white light flashed at the side of Vader, on his wrist. Luke closed his mouth, opened it again, but said nothing as the bleeping continued. Vader kept his gaze locked on him for a moment, ignoring the comm, until he looked away. He raised his wrist to the vented mouth of his mask.

"Speak," he said bluntly.

"Vader, the _Devastator_ has recovered from the ion blast." Tagge's voice came through loud on the comlink. "Weapon systems are back online and we are holding against Cylo's forces, however we've heard nothing from you or the trooper squad that was deployed to rendezvous with you. What is holding you up?"

Vader eyed the boy across him. "The mission is... taking longer than expected, Grand General."

Tagge continued impatiently. "We have traced the other whale-ships, only the flagship remains. The _Executor_ is nearly here and we are readying for bombardment. Nothing is stopping us from dispensing of Cylo's fleet entirely... except for _you_ being onboard."

"I _will_ dispose of Cylo," Vader growled. "The ship's hyperdrive engines are disabled. There is no escape for him, for any of them."

"Be that as it may, estimates show that the ship's ion generators will recharge shortly, more quickly than we are able to defend against. Taking another blast would be too great a risk. It would fry our systems completely. I can permit you twenty minutes, Lord Vader. More than enough time for you, I'm sure. Then we will fire."

 _"Tagge—"_

"We are counting down now. I do wish you the _greatest_ of success in your mission, Vader, but of course the greater good comes first. May the Force be with you."

With that, the guttural voice fizzled out.

Vader hardened his fist, the sound of leather crunching with it. He sharply turned to the boy, who rebounded in alarm.

"What..." Luke exhaled, his heart pounding in a hurry. "Is— Is he serious? How are we supposed to—"

"We must go _now_ ," Vader told him, sounding more urgent than Luke had ever heard him before. Luke gaped at him, his mouth twitching — but whatever words he wanted to say didn't come. He knew there was nothing else to do, no other choice. He drew in a breath and nodded.

The Dark Lord had already swept away. He trudged through the chamber, holding out his burning blade like a torch. Luke joined him, and they hurried through the expanse, their lightsabers humming incessantly as they moved.

Luke felt aimless as he kept with up Vader, the panic charging him with every step. So much was happening so fast — the twins attacking, the lightsaber — now news that they had _minutes_ to escape — it was dizzying...

Twenty minutes. Was there any feasible chance that they _could_ escape in time? It seemed that they were very much lost on this gigantic ship... What if these were his last moments? He could die here, with his father... and with so much still unknown. Still unspoken.

The more he tried to stave off these thoughts, the more drained he felt. He felt himself slow down. His brain and his body were numb. Everything that was happening, that had happened, all the wounds and fatigue from these past few days — it all seemed to weigh him down suddenly...

Then he felt an energy hit him, sharp and resounding as thunder. It struck into his thoughts with the force of an anvil, asserting itself, bringing him back to the present. Luke was confounded, but he felt invigorated by it.

 _Focus,_ he told himself, interpreting that energy, willing himself to keep moving. As he heard the soft mechanical breath of Vader in front of him, he realized where that energy had come from. He pressed in his lips, stopping himself from uttering anything to Vader. What he would've said, he didn't even know.

Soon they came to a halt. Vader brought his saber's light over a wall that contained a large, vault-like door. Seeing no access triggers, Vader immediately rose his lightsaber and pierced it into the base, then began to drag the saber upward.

Luke imitated him, stabbing his blue blade into the door from the other side, and bearing it to form the other half of the passageway.

Vader glanced at the boy as both of their plasma blades steadily burned, molten liquid spilling as they seared through the sturdy material. He took a moment to appreciate that the boy rose to assist him, how he responded to his prompt through the Force, and put aside his weakness. It was still... strange... but he was starting to grow used to the boy's presence. To welcome it, despite everything.

Of course, he knew the youth was driven by the danger, the situation... The boy needed him. The clock was ticking, the ship was set to blow...

And yet as he perceived it, in this moment, Vader himself felt little urgency. He wondered... He opened himself to the Force, stretched his senses outward, trying to detect the threat, to foresee the destruction of the ships, the burst of fire in space, the deadly outcome that was possible for him and his son... but the Force gave no such vision. It was... refusing it.

Their effort soon paid off, and the opening was made. Vader Force-pushed the large slab and it fell on the floor with a loud slam. He walked over it, through the opening, deactivating his saber as he did so. The boy did the same.

Ahead was a small understructure with nothing in it, but a beam of light shone through the topside. It came from a see-through cap high above.

The boy anxiously asked from behind, "Where do we go?"

The Dark Lord answered, "Up."

He summoned the Force, and they were both lifted from the ground. They shot up in the air in one blurring, simultaneous motion. The cap undid itself and a faint light showered over them when they reached the top. Vader settled down with a firm landing, and let go of the young one with the Force. The boy fell down on his rear and grunted. He huffed as he got up.

Vader looked at their new surroundings. Ahead was a confined, dim hallway radiating a pinkish glow.

Vader went forward. With each step, he felt it more and more... The Force was beckoning, flowing in reassurance... Yes. There was no need to rush, to flee. Perhaps Tagge had been bluffing. Ordering to destroy the ship on such short notice, with him on it, _was_ a foolish move, even for him. Regardless, if the Force told him it was of no concern, he would adhere to it.

He was more than grateful for the opportunity; he needed to deal with Cylo himself. To destroy him, every trace of him, to see it and feel it and know there was no possibility that the scientist could survive. There was too much at risk, and Vader would accept nothing less.

The Dark Lord stopped. The boy bumped into him, bewildered, and quickly drew back.

"We are near the labs," Vader confirmed, glancing at him. "We must complete our mission. Ready yourself."

The boy staggered and turned to him, as if he hadn't heard right.

"Complete our — you — you can't be _serious..."_

Vader said nothing and continued his way through the enclosed corridor, toward the faint redness. He heard the boy trailing after him, but suddenly the white-clad form stepped around and planted himself before him.

"Stop!" he exclaimed. "You heard what he said — it can't be much longer before they fire! We need to escape!"

Vader held his gaze for a moment.

"We have nothing to fear," he told him, his voice firm. "Now stand aside."

"But we can't just — Cylo will go down _along_ with the ship! What's the point in going after him?"

Vader frowned. He knew the boy was confused, and had objected to him before, but the fear he felt in him now... Was this the same pilot who had braved the battle of Yavin? Who had been so willing to sacrifice his own life over Vrogas Vas? Who had challenged _him_ to a lightsaber duel? He felt prone to make him understand, to tell him to reach out and feel what he had... but no. The boy had so much to learn regarding the Force. Perhaps seeing the results with his own eyes would prove to him that the Dark Lord was right.

Vader took a step forward. "You will stand aside. _Now."_

The boy didn't move.

Vader felt his fingers jerk, ready to Force-push the boy out of the way. He quelled the desire and stepped around him, heading down the path. Ahead there was a shaded room, the walls padded with more of the same intestine-like matter as previous halls in the ship. In the midst of it, he saw something floating. Vader came closer until he had walked into the open area.

In the air, hovering like an insect, was a spherical droid. A blue orb was shining on its surface.

Behind him, Vader felt a pull at the back of his shoulder.

"Don't," the young man said in a harsh, quiet voice. "I'm— I'm warning you."

The boy was relentless, Vader thought, grimacing— and he was running out of patience.

"I _tire_ of your hysterics," he growled. He turned to face him, grabbing his lightsaber, ready to flash the blade before the young man's eyes.

The boy's reaction was lightning-quick. He stood, arms outstretched, and in his hand he held a small square panel, pointed at Vader. It contained a single red button.

Vader stood opposite of him, his chest beating. Cylo's remote... the boy had taken it. He had kept it. This should not have surprised him — but it did. All Vader could do was absorb it, let the shock sink in him.

He waited. The stoic face of the stormtrooper mask looked back at him, the boy's armor-clad form unsteady as he held the device. Neither of them moved.

There was a shifting noise in the room. It was followed by the sound of something powering on. The droid zipped away — just as a black wall shot up from the floor, blocking the entrance. The lighting in the area suddenly brightened.

"Greetings, Lord Vader," came a female voice, sounding through the loudspeaker of an overhead intercom. "Welcome to the labs."

Both Luke and Vader whipped their heads around, and saw a window set high in the organic red walls. Behind it stood a figure, bearing goggled caps of blue that peered down on them, glowing like headlights.

Luke cringed and pressed his eyes shut. _You've got to be kidding me..._

"Voidgazer," Vader said, and he paused. He then ignited his lightsaber and stepped forth. His broad black form obscured Luke as he stood in front of him. "You cannot possibly hope to challenge me."

Voidgazer's monotone voice rang through the room. "Science sustains you, Vader, and it can end you. Look around: this is _my_ element. One of our many bioplasm arenas made for testing, one I have planned especially for the likes of you. I have been anticipating this series of tests for some time."

"You will not win, Voidgazer. You only delay the inevitable. The Imperial forces have this ship outnumbered _._ "

"Outnumbered, but not outsmarted. My time working on the _Executor_ wasn't only spent working on Tagge's minuscule improvements to the firing array, Vader. I added a few features of my own. At this moment, we control the greatest Super Star Destroyer in the Empire. We know _everything_ that is happening, inside and out. We are in control. You, however..."

There was an electric thrum; another black door appeared. And another. They were sealed in. From a corner in the wall the entwined, nerve-like matter coiled and pulsed, melting away to reveal another door. This one was gigantic, spanning high up to the ceiling. It opened from the bottom up in one swift motion.

There, standing in the unlit entry, was the large brown form of a rancor. Its wide jaw was set with sharp, mismatched teeth, its chin shining with trails of drool, and its tiny eye-sockets replaced with two integrated lenses of blue light. It towered over Luke and Vader, and let out a growl as they stood in its massive shadow.

"Sith versus science," Voidgazer announced. "Let the experiment begin."

Luke let his hand fall, dropping the remote, and it clacked to the floor. He shakily backed away as the rancor took a giant step forward. Vader stood before him and raised his scarlet blade, pointing it up at the rancor. The lightsaber looked like a glowing needle compared to the enormous creature.

 _"Back,_ " Vader bellowed. Luke didn't know if he was talking to him or the rancor, but he did as he said.

The rancor swiped a three-clawed hand at Vader, who moved sideways and brought his saber down, cutting at its heel, leaving a deep oozing wound. But the rancor didn't so much as flinch. It stepped toward him and reached out its hand, trying to grab him with its twitching fingers. Vader sliced one off. Again it made no response. Near the ceiling, the round, blue-eyed drone floated, observing them.

"Predictable hack-and-slash attacks," Voidgazer commented. "That won't be effective this time, Vader. The cybernanimate system is installed, and its neural-dampeners prevent any reception of pain. I'm interested to see how you combat that. Activating adrenal stimulants in three... two... one."

Currents of electricity were ejected from the rancor's head, and it released a deep, throaty roar. It shrieked and lunged toward them.

Luke jumped and grabbed at his lightsaber, his thumb an inch from pushing the ignition button, but Vader held up a hand.

 _"No,"_ he rumbled to him. "Do not approach it."

He stretched out his black-gloved hand, and the rancor was shoved, sliding along the ground as if on ice. It bumped into the fleshy wall and hissed, but it soon recovered. It began to bound back towards them.

Vader bent his fingers, and they trembled. Luke felt a powerful, violent sensation around him, as if something was being torn from the air. The rancor stopped in its tracks, its mouth open. It moved its head back and forth, and let out a growl. Then it took a step, and resumed its stride.

"Plate-reinforced thorax maintaining integrity," Voidgazer noted tersely. "Excellent Force-choke protection."

The creature was soon in front of them again, and it delivered another swipe with its clawed hand. Vader dodged, the talons tearing at the hem of his cape. He stabbed the rancor's leg, but it quickly slashed back, hitting Vader and knocking him to the ground.

Luke dashed after him. The rancor barked, its glowing eyes set back on him, and it reached out to snatch him as he ran. Luke shuffled out of the way, sprinting and twisting his body to avoid its grasp. The rancor roared, and then began to raise its feet up and down, faster and faster — it was trying to stomp on him. Luke nearly tumbled as the ground shook, and dodged just as the large foot smashed down. He grabbed at his lightsaber again, ready to wield it.

But the rancor hit him first, striking him hard across his helmeted head. He was sent hurtling backwards.

"Wait," he heard Voidgazer say, as if she was suddenly appalled. "That... _stormtrooper..."_

Luke felt the lightsaber fly out of his hand as he hit the ground. He let out a groan, his skull aching, and he breathed out and opened his eyes — his visor was gone — the stormtrooper helmet had been knocked off. He blinked hard, delirious, his eyes adjusting to the brightness of the room as he looked around, trying to find Vader...

 _"You."_ Voidgazer's voice echoed, her tone sharp with repugnance as if she'd let out a swearword. There was a pause before she continued, and her tone diluted into sheer malice. "Cancel self-preservation protocols, override all initial target programming!"

The rancor stood idle, subdued like a shut-down machine. It made a purring, bloated noise as it stood there, its beaming eyes glaring into nothingness.

Still reeling, Luke crawled towards a corner, trying to squint to see his surroundings.

In the distance, Vader stared at him, having risen back to his feet. He re-ignited his lightsaber, and the blood-red blade shot back to life.

Voidgazer's scathing voice returned, loud and clear: "New target found... _Kill_ _the boy."_


	17. Chapter 17

Luke crawled away, trying to locate his lightsaber. The rancor towered over him and bent its neckless head, making a gluttonous growl. Saliva dripped down its jawline as it frothed. It opened its mouth and closed in on him.

Luke just managed to roll away, feeling the scrape of its teeth against the back of his chest armor. Luke scrambled away on his hands and knees, feeling the monster leering not far behind.

"So many genius minds were lost on that battle station," he heard Voidgazer say over the loudspeaker. "My comrades. Their lives. Their work. _All lost..._ because of _you."_

Luke blinked hard, grunted, then turned his head. Vader stood facing the monster. The rancor growled as he noticed him, but suddenly a tremor overcame it. Its muscles stiffened, and then it stopped altogether. It stood in place as if paralyzed.

Vader continued his hold on the creature. The dark side drew itself upon him, its power embodying his wrath, smothering the creature. He raised his lightsaber. He strode to the rancor and ruthlessly attacked, slicing at the leg, revealing the slimy tissue underneath. He stabbed the other leg. He sheared across the arm, the stomach, cut off another finger, and then another. But the rancor showed no sign of distress or any interest in him; its beaming eyes were still set on the boy.

His son rose to his feet, and he looked over to Vader. His young exposed face was panicked, brimming with confusion as he looked from the Dark Lord to the looming, powerless creature.

The scientist's voice rose again: "You can't keep that up forever, Vader. You're not without your limits."

Vader scowled behind his mask; he was indeed starting to feel strain from attacking and having to hold back the rampant, enormous creature. He breathed in and out, drawing more on the Force, letting it fuel him, letting his fury deepen and grow. He let himself bathe in the flood of dark power.

And he also felt the bright presence of the boy, an anxious kindling with no direction to go. His son was standing back, his legs faltering, his young eyes darting to see what he could do. Vader clenched his teeth — the boy was eager to help, he could tell. And thus, he was eager to get in the way.

He was about to order him to not make any move when the boy then tried to use his blaster rifle, pointing it at the beast. There was a hurry of useless clicks as his finger fidgeted at the trigger. Realizing it was still disabled, the boy hurled the gun away. He pulled out a detonator from his belt packet and hurled it at the rancor. It burst on its face. There was crackling and a waft of smoke, and when it cleared the rancor's face was marred, its brown skin burnt and peeling, but otherwise it looked unfazed.

Vader thought for a moment, tried to formulate a plan. The rancor was controlled by Voidgazer, it felt no pain, it had protection from Force-manipulation, and would not be distracted from the boy, and with its size, he knew it would take time to kill with a lightsaber...

"Really, Vader," Voidgazer rebuked. "I knew you were short-sighted, but bringing the boy _here?_ You're a traitor _and_ a fool."

Vader's anger grew, and he kept his Force-hold on the rancor, increased the pressure on it, tightened his leash on its movements. The rancor hung its head, and its hunchbacked form began to sink as if burdened with an insurmountable weight. The beast gradually came to its knees.

Vader then felt something else coming and became alert. He turned away, his attention drawn to the left.

The boy also looked there, having sensed it too: a small hatch on the ceiling opened, and a flock of Voidgazer's drones appeared. They flocked with a magnetic speed over to the boy and began blasting at him. Vader swooped in, his hold on the rancor wearing off as he redirected his energy to deal with the drones, using the Force to shield both the boy and himself from several lasers, and blocking the rest with his lightsaber.

The drones' fire rate increased and they swarmed around them, aiming from all sides and directions. Vader blocked them, destroyed them, circling the boy who was crouched down, guarding his head. The ongoing array of lasers didn't end. He sliced one droid, imploded another, but only more appeared in their place, skirting from the open hatch.

Aware that the rancor was stamping somewhere close by, he had no choice but to sustain in his defense against the nonstop torrent of fire. Between the crisscrossing web of blazing lines, he just managed to see the boy.

He was moving on his hands and knees — inching out of the zone of safety Vader was fighting to keep up.

Vader reached out a hand. _"Stop!"_

The boy whipped his head to look at him, his fingers close to touching the gleaming metal of his lost lightsaber. His jaw fell as a shadow cast down on him.

In a matter of seconds the rancor had dived in. Its jaws clamped down on his son's outstretched arm.

Luke had no time to struggle — his feet had left the ground and he was being lifted up. Held by his arm, he dangled from the rancor's mouth. The giant fangs gripped down, making his armor creak and cutting into the unprotected crevices of his arm. Luke yelled incoherently. Growls flooded his ears as the creature ground its teeth down on the white plates, rupturing through the plastoid to tear into his flesh. Overcome with pain, Luke could only scream and wriggle futilely.

"I told you when you died, I would be there," Voidgazer remarked, her voice subdued as it echoed in his ears. "Your death is well-warranted, and long past due _."_

Vader watched through the clutter of laserfire as the young one struggled. He felt the boy's agony — but the drones continued to fire, to build up and surround him. He reversed a couple, aiming them at the rancor's lumped head; it had no effect — its exterior was blaster-proof. Voidgazer knew exactly what she was doing. The drones were set on him, the rancor set on the boy. Vader knew if he moved to save him directly he would be bringing the drones' fire and endangering him. He could make a javelin-throw of his lightsaber at the rancor, but that would be risky as well...

Or, he could...

"It seems the Force has failed you as well, Vader," the scientist touted. The boy's loud yells and groans continued in the background. "With your presence gone, perhaps the Empire can begin to finally evolve. To pave its way past the whims of glorified zealots and their backwards-based superstitions. Imagine that."

Vader listened, taking in Voidgazer's words and letting her mockery feed him. Anger burned in his limbs, his soul persisting with the appetence to kill. With a great amount of exertion, he suddenly weaved his lightsaber in a clean-cut path, destroying half of the remaining drones. Through the millisecond gap of time he had to spare, he turned his focus outward and linked to his son's presence. In another second he searched with the Force, and he found it: the lost lightsaber.

 _The head,_ he sent into his son's mind, and he pushed the intent onto him. He conjured the weapon and it was flung up, across the air, and sent to the boy just as Vader twirled around to clash his saber against several laser beams.

Luke's hand opened and he caught the weapon. Then with all his might, Luke forced the blazing sword between the rancor's eyes, below its inflated nostrils, and through its enormous skull.

He made a shrill cry as electricity discharged from the rancor's cranium, sending a sharp spasm through him as well. The rancor swayed in place for a moment, but then its gigantic arched form gave way. It fell, shaking the room slightly, and Luke's body smashed into the ground along with it. A few remaining whiffs of breath escaped its mouth. The blue light in the rancor's cybernetic lenses flickered, and then went out.

"You... _You..."_ Voidgazer stammered over the comm. _"You..._ _insufferable..."_

The jaws still hooked on his arm, Luke pulled to free himself, feeling the tips of the fangs still sunken in his skin. Overcome with pain, he stopped struggling and then single-handedly began to flail the lightsaber at the rancor's mouth, cutting at the mouth of the lifeless creature. Chunks of its teeth and gums fell bit by bit, and finally Luke could wrestle himself free. He fell back and propelled himself away from what remained of the gargantuan mouth, sweat-faced and panting.

He looked at his arm. It was bloody and coated in mucous, the white plates cracked and punctured, the black fabric underneath torn — but to his relief, he found it wasn't completely massacred; he could still miraculously move it... barely. The look of it was bad enough, but the pain was sickening.

He turned his head, hearing the sound of lasers and the furious hum of a lightsaber — Vader was still battling the drones. He watched as Vader faced them, albeit only a few of them were left. Rising with half a mind to join the effort, he stopped himself, wincing at the pain of his arm, and simply witnessed Vader swerve his lightsaber at them one by one. Soon he had destroyed the last of them, the final drone combusting into electric circuits as it fell.

Luke nearly staggered as Vader moved towards him. But he didn't regard Luke, he went straight to the rancor. He rose his scarlet blade and stabbed it in the head for good measure, then pulled out his saber and stepped away. He gestured his hand upwards.

Then there was the sound of glass shattering. Luke shot his head to look up, and saw the round viewport had been fractured completely. And hanging in midair just outside the frame, pulled right out from her observatory, was Voidgazer.

With a slight motion of the Dark Lord's fingers, she was wrenched downwards. She stopped just above the ground before Vader, shards of glass falling from her hair. Her lips curled, and the scars around the visor that had replaced her eyes seemed to deepen and engrave on her face as it tightened, making her look as furious as her impassioned demeanor would allow.

"We have taken the _Executor..._ We have... taken the _Devastator,"_ Voidgazer worked out, lifting her chin. "No matter what you do now, Vader, you have _lost_. The galaxy... will only remember the winning side of this conflict. Kill me... and I will be a martyr for science. I will be immortalized... While you, and that boy, and your ways, will be nothing. You will be obliterated, forgotten, your lives snuffed out just as—"

Vader stepped forward, turning off his lightsaber. His cloaked figure obscured Luke's view, but Luke could see him reaching out towards Voidgazer's head. Luke felt that same denseness around him, that same dark air that was like a twisted sense of gravity, pulling down everything, filling every ounce of the room.

Voidgazer made a drawn-out rasp. Luke compulsively looked away, holding his breath as he heard the wrenching sound of something being ripped off, an indescribable sound that made his insides gnash. Then something snapped, there was the breaking of metal — then at last Voidgazer's breath came to an end. There were some dull thuds on the floor, then a louder, heavier one.

It was quiet. Luke heard his father's artificial breath, distilling in and out. It flowed like abrasive steam in the deadened calm.

Luke inhaled, and pried his eyes open. He looked over, and saw Voidgazer's body lying motionless on the ground, her uniformed figure in the shadows. Luke couldn't see her face, but to the side he recognized a bulk of her once-integrated headgear, as well as a blue lens of her eye-capped visor, both broken and speckled with blood.

Vader stood in the dimness, looming over the grisly sight. The dark air remained around him, emitting from him. Vader remained unmoved for a while, his fist a wad of black that looked like it would never unfurl. But he loosened it, and opened his hand, and Luke barely felt it: his lightsaber slipped from his own hand and flew obediently into Vader's palm.

Vader turned. The black mask looked straight at him, scrutinizing him, taking in his young, exposed face. Luke leaned back, unblinking, insensible. Vader gripped both lightsabers as he looked at him, his armored form moving with an unsteady suppression as he breathed. The mask arched down, its ebony face looking more like a glare than ever.

Luke could only stare at the dark warrior, his body stilled and his voice dissolved. He felt the unstoppable race in his heart, thoughts were overlapping in his head; not even the consuming pain in his arm could distract him as he met Vader's gaze. Nothing came to him, nothing to do or to say.

Then the Dark Lord looked away from him. He slowly paced for a moment, looking directionless, until he stopped and looked down. Luke's eyes followed him, and he saw what he was looking at: Cylo's remote. It was on the ground, the red button still glowing, still in once piece, still intact.

The grim-faced mask looked up at him again. Luke swallowed, a burning, unnerved feeling swirling in his gut. Then, still keeping his gaze on him, Vader brought his boot down on the glowing device. It crushed sparsely beneath his heel.

Silence fell. The seconds passed by. The two of them stood there, continuing to watch each other. Both weary, both restless.

There was an explosive burst at the nearby door.

Both Luke and Vader turned. Scattered sparks peeked from the corners. Bolts shot and flew. The door was breached, and the flat sheet of the black metal came down with a clamorous thud. A faint mist drifted in from the threshold, followed by the sound of clinking footsteps. There were gleaming dabs of red and a glint of silver, and then Triple-Zero tidily walked out from the doorway and into the room. Bee-Tee rolled in from behind.

Vader took a step forward. There was a stalled beat before he spoke. _"Droids.._. What is the _meaning_ of this?"

"Oh, hello, Master Vader. And... others," Triple-Zero said, his red eyes scanning over the sight of the Dark Lord, the dead rancor, the dead Voidgazer, and Luke, who let out a loud sigh. "Drat, I'm late to the party, aren't I? Hmm... Well, what did I miss?"

"I did _not_ send for you," Vader thundered in aggravation, pointing and waving at Triple-Zero with one of the deactivated lightsabers. "Explain yourself. _Now."_

"Beg your pardon, sir, but we are following your orders. You assigned Bee-Tee and I to fetch the towheaded one, and we lost him for a time, but as you can see we tracked him down. We managed to route an escape pod from the _Devastator_ to this ship. We used the downtime in the battle outside, and luckily we managed to get through without interference." Triple-Zero gestured at Luke, who made a scowling glance at the droid and brought his hand over his face. "And it seems you've found him before us... However, we _have_ done you a great service—"

"You have done _nothing,"_ Vader snapped, and he faced away. He motioned to turn on his wrist comm. There was no response. He pressed the node on his belt to double-check, but there was no signal reception from any of the communication channels. Voidgazer had not lied about having control of the Star Destroyers, he realized detestably. He looked around the flesh-wall room, eyeing the many black doors.

He paused, and then slowly looked over at the boy. He was hunched, holding his injured arm as he stood in his quiet spot, his eyes shut as if to tune everything out. Begrudgingly, anxiously, Vader considered the boy, his wounds, his state. He skimmed over him with the Force, but the boy's presence exploded with emotions — pain, confusion, anger — and Vader broke off quick, taken aback. Instinctively, almost defensively, he distanced his own presence.

"If Cylo has control of the Imperial flagships... then he has stopped all operations, including Tagge's attack," he declared, prone to keep his focus. "But his takeover is not yet complete... His cloning chamber should be near..." He thought for a moment. "I will deal with this myself. You will remain here until I return."

Vader moved to walk away, but Bee-Tee made a spry, heavy bleep, his huge receptor flashing. Triple-Zero pat the astromech's flat top and nodded.

"Indeed, that's precisely what we've done for you, Lord Vader! Bee-Tee and I already found Cylo's chamber, we just left it you see, and, well... let's just say we saved you the trouble."

Incredulous, Vader spun around and looked at the two droids. Did this mean what he suspected? Determined to see for himself, he darted away, heading towards the blast-breached threshold, which had now cleared itself of smoke. There was no time to waste.

"You knew."

The Dark Lord stopped. The young voice behind him was nearly spoken in a whisper, but it was clear. Vader was motionless. He didn't look back at the boy, whose eyes he knew were on him. He made no reply to him. He had none to give.

"You knew the whole time," the boy said more faintly. He made a tight, hoarse sound in his throat, as if he was blocking any other words from coming out.

Still Vader didn't move, not for a long while. Then he tilted his helmeted head slightly to his shoulder, as if to say something back. He hesitated, his will at odds, his thoughts upturned...

Then he saw the memory play out in his mind, still fresh: the boy standing in his way, holding out that remote... the thing that could destroy him... threatening him, ready to use it against him... Bitterness crept into his chest. Disappointment, and something deeper. He felt the dark side offer itself to him in response, and Vader latched onto it, let it harden his resolve. The feelings soon became ash.

He kept his presence closed off, shrouded completely from the boy. Then, gripping both of the lightsabers covetously in his hands, he marched away without a word.

He went through and passed into a dark hall with a soft light ahead. He followed the bluish glow that ushered from around the corner. It led to another threshold that had recently been blasted through, the metal frames stained black.

A bright chamber was revealed through the forced opening. Vader entered it.

The first thing he noticed were the snow-like mounds of bacta on the ground, nearly solidified and turned white from air exposure. The fluid was piled inches high across the chamber, having spilled out of several tanks that were set against the walls. The glass of each one was broken. Amongst the bacta wreckage there lay several dead bodies. Most were exact copies of Cylo, bearded and bearing Rodian eyes, all naked from their time in stasis. They were marked with blaster wounds several times over. There were also many dead stormtroopers spread across the chamber, blaster holes burnt in their armor.

Standing in the center, Vader overlooked the scene. He looked at the bacta tanks, at the bodies, at all the telltale signs of struggle...

He heard something from the doorway. He frowned.

"I tried to stop him, sir," Triple-Zero attested.

Vader saw the boy standing there, leaning to the side. His face was solemn. He was eyeing the room over, taking it all in.

"What happened?" he said, his voice almost an undertone. He avoided looking at the Dark Lord.

Triple-Zero scoffed. "What _happened,_ he asks... Someone sure doesn't know how to read the room." The droid scuttled his way around the boy and stepped over the leg of a Cylo clone. "It was certainly one of the more... creative battles we've seen recently, Lord Vader. The stormtroopers got in the way a bit, as you can see, but we were efficient."

Pensive, Vader observed the droid, then scanned the chamber again. He studied the bodies, the many busted devices and weapons littered on the ground. This discovery changed things, but how much? He tried to gather his thoughts. He felt he was missing something, some detail...

Interrupting his contemplation, he heard the boy speak, and saw him frowning at the droid.

"That stormtrooper squad was sent to destroy the clones," he said in a quiet voice. "You killed them for no reason."

Triple-Zero wriggled his robotic head and held up a stiff hand. "Correction: we killed them to be _timely._ "

From behind, Bee-Tee appeared. He rolled towards the young man, who watched him guardedly, still looking disgruntled. The small droid made an array of deep bleeps.

"I think so too," said Triple-Zero, and he turned at Vader. "You know, master, for all the trouble this blond fellow has caused for us, I do hope you plan on giving him some magnificent punishment. I have suggestions if you're open to them. A vocal cord-ectomy, for starters."

"Enough, Triple-Zero." Vader headed back towards the entrance, taking his time as he passed the boy, waiting to see if he would speak. The boy still averted his gaze. Glowering under the mask, Vader did the same and turned his head to address the droid. "The inspector. Where is _he_ now?"

"He and the astromech have been taken care of, sir. Most assuredly."

At this the boy paled, and rounded on the droid. "What do you mean, _taken care of?_ What have you _done_ to them?"

"Well, isn't that precious, the prisoner is making demands!" The droid fixed his red eyes on him, leery. "If you expect me to actually _answer_ you _—_ "

 _"Enough!"_ Vader berated, silencing the droid and the boy, who both jumped. Vader swerved and pointed at Triple-Zero. "You are in error, droid. I see six tanks, but only five dead clones. One remains... Cylo is still onboard, in some form. And he is fleeing... We must hurry."

He swept towards the door, but Triple-Zero crept over towards him, and leaned in close, speaking behind his hand.

"What of the blond one, master? Shall we knock him out? Or simply let him... bleed out?"

Vader glanced at the boy again, at his weak, unbalanced form. The young one watched him intensely, still nursing his ever-bleeding arm.

"Let him be," Vader responded, casting his dark gaze on him once more, and then he swept away to the entry.

He strode out of the chamber. Obediently, the droids followed him.

Luke saw their shadows dwindle away as they left, taken aback as he found himself suddenly alone. He hesitated, his legs wobbling with indecision, his stomach lurching. Then he made a hollow, hard-pressed breath, and walked through the passage. He fell in step behind them.

Vader led them through corridor after corridor, never speaking or stopping. There were more bodies of stormtroopers, as well as Cylo's gunmen, found in some of the quarters they passed, as well as flames, fallen beams, oozing pustules of the flesh-walled areas, and other remnants of destruction. Triple-Zero and Bee-Tee had left their mark as they'd made their way to the labs.

Luke dragged further and further behind. The droids were becoming blurred sheens before him. He couldn't see Vader. So much was blaring through his head, so much that he felt he was adrift in some kind of stupor... He could see blots of red seeping down his armor onto the floor... The pain of the rancor bite seemed to spread the more he tried to ignore it, but he also felt strangely detached from it.

He couldn't think. All he could bring himself to do was to keep walking, like a wanderer who'd found himself in another realm.

He didn't know how much time had gone by before he felt a stirring; he was aware that Vader had come to a halt. The droids had as well, long enough for him to catch up. Automatic doors opened and closed, and his steps faltered as he went through them. Luke blinked and saw they had entered an area with a shining platform, a hangar judging by the few ships set in designated landing stations.

At the farthest section, one ship was powered up, a shuttle. Cylo stood on the railway before it, dressed in a red overcoat. He faced them, expectant, greeting them with an eyebrow-knitting frown.

Vader stared at him. He then approached, his steps heavy and slow.

"Cylo, _"_ Vader hissed, his metallic voice low and scathing. "You have yet to learn... _there is no escape."_

Then Cylo was suddenly yanked several feet towards him. He was steered ever closer to the Dark Lord until he was within arms reach. Like Voidgazer, he floated in midair, his boots hovering over the ground. The Dark Lord watched him, captivated, his attention thoroughly drawn to the scientist as if nothing else existed.

Cylo regarded him, his face fixed with stern composure. "You are the one who will never learn. I will survive, no matter _what_ you do, Vader."

"You have _lost,"_ Vader refuted with vehemence. "Your crew is gone. Whatever control you had is slipping from your grasp. You have _nothing_ to fall back on. _There is_ _no escape for you_."

"Yes, you would know about that, forever trapped in your broken form." Cylo's human eye roamed for a moment. "And in your _grand_ voyage of _vengeance_... I see you have brought _company._ " His keen gaze set on Luke, and Luke compressed his mouth. He wavered in his steps and moved to the side, backing towards a small enclosure.

Cylo raised an eyebrow. "Resilient boy... It's no wonder he made for such quality material — as a _test subject."_

He gasped. Vader inclined his helmeted head, and Luke felt the dark power wrapping around him with vigor. Cylo's features screwed in, his wrinkles engraving and stretching on his face. Spit flew from his bared teeth as he gulped for air.

"Death will come," Vader said softly. "But first... you will suffer."

The scientist was then flipped upside down. Cylo twirled over them. His back hit flat against the high reaches of the ceiling. He then proceeded in a series of fast, knee-jerk movements, orchestrated by the slightest pulse of Vader's fingers. Cylo was slammed against the walls, dragged across the deck, bashed into the side of a ship's wing, thrown into the edged corner of a supply box. His face soon became bruised and bloody.

Luke watched, disconcerted and dazed, and he felt the urge to move, to do something — for a moment he even thought about trying to slip away — but he felt strangely stuck to the spot. Beside him, the droids were still and quiet, watching as if in a trance.

Finally Cylo stopped, still held in that invisible grip, gurgling and looking like a battered, stringless puppet. He was moved slowly towards Vader. Vader looked him over, patient and prepared. He ignited his lightsaber.

"Do it then," wheezed the scientist. Blood dripped from his mouth, spilling into his trimly cut beard. "Kill me, Vader. Make me be reborn yet again."

"Your duplicates are no more, fool. The creatures you crafted to feed your cowardice cannot save you. _"_ He brought the searing blade closer and closer to Cylo's face. It was an inch from his Rodian eye. "You will be eradicated. You will _burn._ "

Cylo's gagged out a simpering cry and his face started to compress, caught in a Force-choke. The corner of his mouth pinched, and then formed a taut expression, a mix between a scowl and a smile.

"Not _..._ _c-cowardice..."_ he worked out, nearly indiscernible, the blood-red light hot on his face. "... _Cunning._ "

He lifted up a hand, circuits lighting up beneath his fingertips, and there was a loud, buzzing echo. A high-pitched whirlwind flooded the hangar.

Luke spun around, and saw it was coming from the enclosure behind him. A side hatch had opened from within it.

At once he felt a sense of imbalance, his feet became unstuck — he was sliding along the floor — and before he knew it, he was being lifted and pulled away.

Everything sped past him. There was a clutter of light and sound; he could make out the motion of Vader's dark form, Cylo falling to the floor, the droids slanting where they stood, but only he was moving past it all, only he was being dragged away...

In an instant, it was all gone. He was flying through the hatch, through the chute, and then Luke was sent hurling into the blackness of space.


	18. Chapter 18

Hi, all. Next chapter is planned to be the last one for this story, just so you know...

Hope you enjoy these last couple of chapters. :)

—

* * *

—

Luke could see the reflection of light on the chute that he'd passed through. It was now closing.

He was drawn away from it, farther and farther. At once he felt his lungs become dry, the skin on his face felt thick, and Luke slowly kicked as he tried in vain to fight the microgravity that carried him. He could see he was drifting away from the mass of the whale-ship. Space loomed beyond, vast and untouchable.

Stars blinked, peppered across the black void. He saw two large arrows, the Star Destroyers, and smaller ships so far away they looked like feathers gliding among the nebula's streaks of green, blue, and magenta. A yellow sun flared in the distance.

The water in his mouth began to boil. His lungs were hardening, desperate for breathable air. His insides were swelling up, crushing with a gross inflammation. He could see blots of red floating around him, and realized it was his own blood, coming from his injured arm.

It was a heart-stopping moment when Luke realized that, in a few moments, he was going to die.

Helplessness overcame him, unbearable, aching. Luke felt his eyes well up until they stung. Thoughts sped through his mind, wishes and memories he longed to hold on to...

He saw an old, white-bearded face, trying to say something to him...

 _Ben,_ he implored, searching the black depths for his friend, waiting for that ghostly voice to respond. _Ben, help me, please...  
_

Emptiness answered him. Luke wanted to try again, but his mind was inviting another person, another face. This one held a pair of beautiful brown eyes, filled with hope.

 _Luke,_ please... _The Alliance needs you._

Another face swept to him, this one bearing a proud, winning grin.

 _I don't care how mystical and magical that Jedi stuff is, it's not worth dyin' over. You hear me, Luke?_

Pain and guilt welled in his heart. Leia. Han. His friends, all of them... he'd never see them again...

He could barely keep track as more images came and went, like fleeting, half-remembered dreams. He saw two suns crossing in the Tatooine heat. He was flying through giant grey trenches. A sphere exploded in a fiery ring. Ships were spiraling. Blooming fire everywhere, bodies scattered...

There was cold static. Blue orbs. An old mustached face, frowning with doubt.

A great black figure, radiating with power, standing in front of him, shielding him...

His father... Stabs of regret sunk into him, more painful than the soreness loading his body. It was so raw yet so vague, an impossible combustion, like one giant explosion blowing into another. White blurs appeared before him, clouding his eyes and thoughts.

His head was pounding. Everything around him was pounding. Everything was going away, turning to white...

After everything... _this_ was how it was going to end...

 _No._

The voice broke into his consciousness, and with it the morose memories and feelings dimmed out. Weak and dull-eyed, Luke slanted his head down, guided by an unmistakable presence — that familiar burning coldness — and he saw near one of the giant glowing orifices, close to the chute he'd shot out of, stood a figure. It was nearly lost against the intense light of the orange orb, but the silhouette was clearly Vader's.

His father... he had come for him... Luke watched in amazement as Vader stood on a curved piece of an exterior component, firmly stuck to it, his cape wrinkling in the windless gravity. He began sliding over the metallic wedges. The black helmet looked up his way, seeking him.

 _Hold on._ The message rose in Luke, glowing with promise. Luke felt a sheer burst of thankfulness. He was going to survive, he was going to live! But he soon recoiled; his insides continued to bloat and grind with fire. The black form started to blur and distort... He was losing sight, losing himself... He was too far away...

It was too late, Luke realized. Vader wouldn't reach him in time.

 _I can't,_ he sent back in anguish.

 _You_ _will_ , the presence said back.

Luke felt that dark power suddenly gather itself, and it rushed out to Luke like an avid thundercloud. It surrounded him, enveloping him in coldness, and somehow it was fluxing out the weakness, the whiteness, keeping it at bay, keeping him... alive. Gradually, Luke felt himself being pulled in by it as if carried by a tide.

The dark smear that was Vader became clearer, closer. Relief rose in Luke again, fierce and bright, blocking out everything else. As he was brought closer in the Force-pull, delirious and unthinking, he lifted his arm, pushing back against the pressure that fought against his every move. His hand shaking, he reached out for the Dark Lord.

Vader's presence flickered, and a strange vibration came from him. The black form moved closer to the edge, and with a steady slowness, Luke saw his father extend his own hand. His Force-pull seemed to enshroud Luke now; the coldness of it was intense, like Luke was under a sheet of ice.

He was getting closer to the ship now, closer to his father...

A thousand thoughts poured from him. He could see Vader much clearer now, the distinct form and unreadable mask. He felt the gaze behind it boring into him, the spirit within alight like a blazing shadow. The leather fingers spread out and stretched long, awaiting for his grasp. Luke reached back as far as he could, his fingers stiff and feeling ready to snap from the strain.

 _I can... I'm almost... there..._

Then it all stopped. The Force-pull faltered, the coldness dissipated. Something had happened. Luke felt something hit him from behind, grab him with a sudden force. He was yanked and pulled away.

At this, Vader's presence shot like a jet of fire. His hand balled and clenched, brandishing the Force, fighting for control. The cold flame of his presence surrounded Luke again. Luke felt himself being pulled back and forth, but the dark energy was persisting. He couldn't turn to see what was taking him, nor could he feel any of his limbs. He felt the burning and bloating coming back in full.

He tried to hold on, to call on the Force, but mustering any mental effort felt impossible. His lungs were so deprived they'd lost all feeling. He couldn't resist as he felt his brain become smothered, his heart slowing down...

The last thing he remembered was the wall of cold light that was his father's presence, suddenly letting go, dimming to an afterglow. Then everything muddied away. The cloudy whiteness came, and claimed Luke.

Vader stood, watching as the boy was dragged away. An extraction cable pulled him towards an awaiting shuttle, a bronze, aquatic-looking vessel that floated in the distance, semi-camouflaged with its surroundings. The boy disappeared into the gap of its hull and the doors closed. The engines flared, and the shuttle took off. It blasted into lightspeed, and the bright presence of the boy faded away along with it.

Vader stared into the starlit darkness, at the haze of hyperdust left behind. The emptiness mocked him as he stood, devoured in his rage, in sheer defeat, wanting to tear through the black curtain of the endless void with his own two hands. Parts of the ship's exterior around him split and crushed, impacted by his invisible wrath.

Then Vader suddenly rebounded, shifted his attention away. He maneuvered his magnetic-clamped boots along the structure until he came to the rim of the shaft he'd exited from. He slid into it, Force-pushed it shut, and began to fall back into the whale-ship's depths. He landed in the dim underpass. He passed through the walkway, and soon found his way back into the hangar.

Triple-Zero and Bee-Tee stood aimlessly on the elevated platform, scant flames strewn across the place from blasterfire. Cylo was gone — as was his ship.

He tightened his fists, keeping his rage contained, making it fuel him to do what needed to be done. Vader hurried past the droids, raced down the corridor that led to the labs. He made his way through the rancor den, past the bacta tank chamber, until he had found the command bridge. The floor of the bridge was see-through, and beneath it contained the hard-to-miss sight of a gigantic brain that was as large as the room itself.

Outside, the view of both the _Devastator_ and the _Executor_ could be seen miles away, both aslant and unresponsive among the clusters of stray TIE-fighters surrounding them.

Vader looked over the controls. The computer was set to an automatic program. The ship was on course to crash right into the _Executor..._ where the Emperor was currently onboard. Vader glared, and pressed numerous key combinations to change the program, to shut it down.

"Collision course cannot be altered. No override is possible," the robotic voice supplied.

He ripped out the device and threw it to the ground, the remaining wires spritzing from the outlet. Vader stepped away from the console, collected himself again, made himself desensitized to his feelings. He checked everything over, wondering how much time he had to try anything else... Through the large window, he could see the large Star Dreadnaught progressing into view like a grey dart in slow motion. His mind raced impatiently. He looked below at the massive, cyber-enhanced brain. The bunched curls pressed against the glass under his feet, contained in sustaining fluid.

He knew what he had to do. He drew on the Force, pushed his will onto the creature, repelling the cybernetics that directed its primal mind. Electricity spilled from the cerebrum, and there was a deep, wailing moan that resounded everywhere as the creature reeled in pain. Slowly, the whale-ship began to steer off the targeted course, waving its flipper-like arms to go another direction entirely: towards the yellow sun.

Triple-Zero and Bee-Tee had just stepped through the entrance when Vader turned to leave. He made a sharp halt before them.

"The escape pod you came here in. Where is it?" he bellowed.

Triple-Zero staggered, but answered. "In the anterior docking bay, sir. We seem to—"

Without another word, Vader stepped in between the droids, shouldering them aside, and he marched back into the corridor.

Triple-Zero regained his balance, having nearly fallen over. He beckoned at his small companion. "I think that's our cue to hightail it, Bee-Tee. Looks like we're getting off the giant Robo-fish of Doom... Well, it was fun while it lasted."

The astromech rolled towards the taller droid and let out a couple of grumbling bleeps.

"Oh, stop complaining. We've seen _plenty_ of action, took down _many_ organics," Triple-Zero said as they both moved through the hall, trailing far behind their master. "We may not have stopped Cylo, but look on the bright side, Bee-Tee: at least we won't have to worry about that yellow-haired nuisance anymore."

—

* * *

—

Snow drummed upon the cavetops of Anthan 13.

The night was frigid after many hours of snowfall during the day. The translucent caves were reflecting edges of ice and stone. Large shards crossed overhead, jutting from the cave walls. Outside, the temperature of Anthan 13 was below freezing. Inside, the atmosphere was benumbing.

From the other side of the hollow, Thanoth sat on a rock by a fire, near a cornered area. The space along the wall contained a five-foot-tall heap of credit ingots: bars of gold, silver, and speckled mythra. The treasure shimmered in the icy mist.

He took a swift glance around the cave, which had once hosted a small Rebel base. Machinery was stacked in the distance, suggesting an industrial operation. Some lizard-like gowneks flew and crawled about, attracted to the various alloys. There were the occasional remains of long-perished lifeforms as well, suited and helmeted skeletons surrounded by broken equipment.

Thanoth rubbed at his throat, which was raw and sore. He rested a hand on the wrapped lightsaber wound on his shoulder, having used some leathery fabric from one of the dead Rebels' jumpsuits, and he bit back a moan as he twisted the knot to tighten the band. He knew it was imperative to keep it woven tight. He wished he could decipher whether infection had yet come to the wound, but his priceless monocle was now gone, shattered into pieces on the ground. It would take time to replace it, he figured, if he ever got the chance.

Vader stood at the other side of the wide cave, silent and statuesque. He had been so for almost an hour, buried in his thoughts, while Thanoth had been left to tend to his wounds, not that there was much he could do in a freezing cavern. Vader had done nothing to stop him, had not spoken to him or looked his way.

The droids weren't present, now shut down and kept in Vader's TIE-fighter, onto which Vader had carried Thanoth and the droids hours ago. Thanoth had regained consciousness as they sailed through space, confined in the small storage room with the droids — didn't that sound familiar — and conscientiously, he had approached Vader in his cockpit. Vader had appeared to be steering, but on closer inspection his grip was slack on the controls as he gazed out into the stars from his chair. There had been no destination set in the navicomputer.

Thanoth had, without preamble, suggested that they travel to Anthan 13. Cylo knew of the location, he'd said, and so Vader's hidden ingots had to be moved and all traces of activity erased. Vader had Force-pushed him back into the storage room and locked the door.

Nonetheless, here they were. Back on the ice moon.

Vader had not wasted time. He had indeed dragged Thanoth to the caves, and he had questioned him, threatened him with pain and death, demanding that he answer for everything. Thanoth answered without resistance, and thus suffered little more than some suffocation with the Force — and Vader capping it off by crushing his monocle. Thanoth explained how he found the boy, what they had been through since their meeting on Vrogas Vas to the their last encounter on the _Devastator._ He thought to question Vader as well, wanting to be filled in; he had fears as to what had happened while he had been knocked out, thanks to the infernal droids — but knowing better, he asked no questions of his own.

The Dark Lord seemed unsatisfied as he had let him go, letting him fall to the ground, free of the Force-choke before he turned away. As Thanoth croaked and inhaled with difficulty, Vader retreated away from him and went in his meditative state. He had stayed there in his calm, dark stillness, as if absorbed in another world.

Now Thanoth once again sat by a self-made fire on Anthan 13, frowning at the cold and at his various pains. He eyed the Dark Lord, eyed the ingots, waiting for Vader to say something. He knew the man wished to be left alone, but there were matters to discuss. Many matters, ones that couldn't wait. Finally, he spoke.

"So then," Thanoth began outright, his voice rasping from his injured throat. "Were you successful, Lord Vader?... With finding Cylo?"

Vader gave no answer and made no move. His sharp breath pitched through the placid air, incessant as it cut through the silence. Typical, thought the inspector. Even when he had worked alongside Vader, the Sith Lord often let _him_ do the talking during any interactions. He tended to be quiet, almost forbiddingly so. Again Thanoth attempted to impel a reply from him. He took a breath, this time making his tone lighter, more careful.

"What happened on Cylo's ship, Lord Vader?"

Vader slowly turned to him. The steep shadows sunk into the artificial mask, obscuring it with blackness. Vader stepped forward to Thanoth, taking his time as he did so. The posture told Thanoth that he was suppressing a great deal of anger that he was waiting to unleash.

Thanoth breathed out tiredly. "I can offer no help if I don't know what happened... You heard what happened on _my_ end. I take it you sensed what I told you was true... So tell me, what has gone down? What is our next move?"

At this, the Dark Lord broke the silence.

"You _dare..._ seek answers from _me?"_ He lifted a finger and pointed it at the inspector. "You, a traitor, who had been slinking in the shadows all this time, digging up confidential information behind my back?"

Thanoth tilted his head in admittance. "I understand my actions have consequences, and I don't expect any explanation I give to be enough to spare my life. I accept that. I can only attest that, if I intended to work against you, I could have easily given your secrets away to a number of people. If I wished for power, or my own safety, I would not be here. I would not have investigated your activities, or the boy's identity, or the connection between you two. I fed him that story about his father sending a message, I helped him escape Cylo... I did what I did to bring him _to_ you, Lord Vader. I _am_ on your side."

"Or perhaps you merely did it so you could make such claims," Vader said, coming closer, and he looked down at Thanoth where he sat, towering over him. "To gain my trust. So that should you be found out, you would be able to tell me what you _could_ have done."

Thanoth raised an eyebrow, then pressed it down, his wrinkles layering at the accusation. It was to be expected, of course... Vader _was_ a Sith; he would not be easy to convince. But convince him he must.

"You _should_ be suspicious... As I said, I don't expect you to spare me. Secrecy is of the utmost importance, I know, and the life of an old man like me is certainly not worth the risk. It's a shame I couldn't live to help you in your endeavors — with my knowledge of arms dealers and underworld activities, I could expand upon your resources considerably — but, well... this is how it must be."

"Your obsession with investigating the unknown has made you a presumptuous fool, Thanoth. I have no such aims."

Now Thanoth made a small, nearly inaudible sigh in impatience. "Come now, Lord Vader. Let's not bother with any thin attempts at covering up the obvious. I _knew_ of your credit stash here on the Anthan moon beforehand, and I knew of your involvement in the Son-Tuul fortune robbery — the result of which sits glittering before us. I know of the bounty hunters you hired, the archaeologist you had uncover information, the droid factory you took from Geonosis..."

He looked at the black-masked Sith, again waiting for a response. The stark breath emitted through the transmitter several times. Vader said nothing.

Thanoth coughed, his throat agitated again, and he caressed it. He glimpsed up at the Imperial enforcer, his curiosity still brimming, then he let his gaze fall — until he noticed something on the Dark Lord, just under his cape: a second lightsaber was hooked on his belt. One he knew all too well.

"By the way... it's been hours _,_ hasn't it?" Thanoth blinked and looked away, back into the fire. "Shan't you report to the Emperor sometime soon? You wouldn't want to appear to be MIA."

The rough pressure of Vader's breath continued, echoing through the caves. Still he said nothing.

"You have plans. _Grand_ plans," Thanoth continued, nodding at his own perceptions. "Otherwise you would not have gone to such lengths. Which leads to my next question: Why am _I_ still here, Lord Vader? Why do you keep me alive long enough to ask you these meddling questions?"

Vader just stood there, wordless, staring down on Thanoth. Several seconds passed.

"I require... more from you," he finally said, his voice scathing, sounding resistant to the words as he spoke them.

Now they were getting somewhere. Thanoth obliged, nudging for more information. "More from me?"

"Cylo's ship. It contained a vessel. A type unknown to me. None of Cylo's vessels are registered or documented in Imperial records. I learned this when searching for his whereabouts with Tagge. I must find that ship. You, inspector, will assist me in this."

Thanoth rose an eyebrow, perplexed. He had suspicions for what this meant, but he needed to be sure. "A ship? For what reason?"

Again Vader was silent. He didn't answer.

Thanoth frowned. "Lord Vader, if we are to work together, you _must_ fill me in on—"

"I must do _nothing_ for your convenience, Thanoth. You are either complying or dying, so answer swiftly: _Can you find this ship?"_

The old inspector withheld a sigh of exasperation. Such stubbornness... It ran in this family, that was for sure.

"I can try," he complied. "Tell me about this ship."

Vader did so, describing a bronze, aquatic-looking shuttle with spiked fringes and semi-cloaking. Thanoth stroked his mustache as he tried to picture it.

"I've not heard of anything like that... I'll need equipment to really delve into this. Nothing too fancy, a basic HoloNet-accessed computer, a data-distorter... But what of all _this_ , Lord Vader?" He gestured at the pile of ingots. "As I said, Cylo knows of this place. If he is alive, I suggest we move this to a more isolated location. I could help with that as well. I know a thing or two about safes and vaults."

" _Why?"_ Vader suddenly spat, his mechanical tone loud and grating with resentment. "You have done all this, you have kept silent. You aided the boy, you aid me. You seek something, Thanoth. What is it?"

So they had finally come to that. Thanoth shuffled his feet, and he slowly hoisted himself up to stand, scowling at the sharp pain in his sprained ankle. He put his weight on a tall rock formation at the side.

"Yes, I seek something, Lord Vader... I seek _change._ Change in the Empire we both serve, which has been slowly crumbling. Take the Death Star project. Palpatine nurtured it for twenty years, _twenty years,_ and it came crashing down by one snub fighter, due to a grossly overlooked flaw planted by one of our _own..._ His grasp is faltering. He has clearly lost sight of the priorities of the Empire, what it needs, what it stands for. He carelessly lets things crumble away as he sits watching from his throne, thinking nothing will ever touch him. Not surprising. The man was a politician."

Thanoth made a light snort and caught his breath.

"I believe in the _eternal_ Empire," he went on. "But that can only happen if it survives. If it has the right leadership, the right _strength..._ For the longest time, I wondered why you stayed put in your place as second-in-command, taking orders even from the likes of Tarkin. I could not fathom why you did not seize power. Was it fear? Misguided trust?" Thanoth smiled faintly and shook his head. "No. Of course not. You did not overthrow the Emperor because you _could_ not overthrow him. Not by yourself."

Vader's head shifted down, the angle's light showing the redness in the mask's eyes. He stayed mute, though Thanoth noticed his hand gliding to his belt, nearing the lightsaber on his side. His knuckles just brushed it.

"This ship... I take it young Luke was abducted on it," Thanoth declared, inhaling with some unease as he met the Dark Lord's gaze. "You wish to find him... You wish to find him, train him in your ways, and supplant the Emperor."

Vader moved forward, and instantly Thanoth was sent back. He slammed against the cave wall, a tight thud sounding as the back of his skull hit the rock. Icicles shook and shattered from the impact, splintering into pieces as Thanoth fell, unconscious, to the ground.

For a long time Vader looked at the fallen inspector, his hands settled on the hilts of both lightsabers, the metal digits fidgeting with temptation as he struggled with the desire to wield them. To cut through that body. To forever silence him.

He turned away, shifted his gloved hands off the weapons, and bunched them into fists. Vader looked at the gleaming hoard of riches, Thanoth's words still prodding at his mind.

—

* * *

—

The skies of Mustafar were grey with storm clouds and furls of smoke.

Red lava flowed in swirling paths around the black castle. It sat on a steep edge of a large mountainous stretch, a black-stone structure, tall and ancient-looking, almost pyramid-shaped. Two spires jutted upward from it, and in the middle perched a pointed central point like the tip of a spear. The fortress' base reached down, containing an open channel that flowed with a single stream of lava. It spilled into the lava pools below like a seeping wound.

Vaneé was more than used to the scenery, both of the planet and the stronghold. The surrounding heat, the molten sea against the peaks, the smell of brimstone with the constant volcanic eruptions, the lightning storms. Inside the castle was different: there was a somber darkness, with scarcely lit halls and a strange fog that rose from the castle grounds. The place was quiet, bleak, and usually inactive, especially in these troubling times of war when his master was so often called elsewhere. Only when he was here did the castle awaken from its sleep.

So it had today. The red-robed Imperial Guards marched in single-file and stood attentively as their master's ship landed, and Vaneé himself had approached him, humbly waiting for his command. But Lord Vader had had no patience for such things this time, and had sped past him, carrying an old man in Imperial attire, who had floated in the air by use of his master's mysterious power. He was knocked out and looked like a human balloon that hovered after the Dark Lord as he strode past the garrison and other attendants.

Vader had only given one command to Vaneé before he'd entered the fortress: "I am not here. Should any communications come, from anyone, _I am not here."_

Again, Vaneé was more than used to this. One didn't last as a personal servant of Lord Vader for twenty years without being well accustomed to discreetness.

So he had left his lord to his business. Though it had been only a few hours later that he had been walking through the corridors, carrying on his usual tasks, when he noticed a strong white light coming from the console station within the castle. He silently peeked inside.

"There are no other bases? Nothing outside the Crushank Nebulae?" His master's voice was frustrated, urgent.

"None that I can see," answered the now-conscious old man, making a weary sigh. He had been sitting there at a computer among the high-tech equipment, typing stridently. A wound was on the back of his scalp, a tattered wrap on his injured shoulder. Despite what bad shape he was in, he seemed completely immersed in his work.

Lord Vader stayed standing at the side of him, arms folded, overseeing what the man was doing. Vaneé had thought to inquire if his master needed any assistance, but seeing how engrossed both of them were, he thought it best to not disrupt them, and left.

More hours went by. Vaneé went about his normal duties, seeing that the castle was tended to. That the power was at its highest, that the guards were standing watch in their designated areas, that all supplies were stocked and all security measures met. Incoming communications were kept track of. Then there were the smaller matters, making sure the maintenance droids kept everything properly presentable, that his master's spare armor and cybernetics were refurbished if need be. Before he knew it, the grey sky had dulled to a faded indigo as night fell, and his menial work had come to an end.

Vaneé was about to retire for the night when he received a comm call. He responded quickly, then retreated with diligent speed, heading back into the console room, where his master had been all day.

But when he got there, there was only the old officer. He was no longer at the console, but instead laying on the floor, eyes closed, though still breathing, and now imprisoned behind glowing bars from an activated force field. His wrists were held back in binders.

So Vaneé searched the other rooms that his master tended to frequent. His sanctum was empty, as was his workshop, combat room, and meditation den. Finally he found him, just managing to glimpse the black form from afar as he passed through the hall. He was standing in one of many antechambers, a holo-device in his palm. It projected the image of a Wookiee, who Vader seemed to be conversing with.

"My Lord," Vaneé said most delicately as he approached him, bowing. "I've received word from—"

"I said I am _not_ to be disturbed," came the mechanized voice, low with a hint of anger. He continued to look at the hologram.

"Yes, master, I know, but this is not an outside call. It comes from the probe droids patrolling the south. It seems they have detected something. A most unusual ship, master, requesting permission to land."

The domed head of the Dark Lord tilted at attention. Vader then turned the hologram off and swerved around, his black cape snapping at his heels. He stared at Vaneé, but more so seemed to stare beyond him, as if listening for something that only he could hear. Then with sudden haste, Vader rushed past his hooded servant and went through the door.

He headed down the dark halls, signaling to the droids and his watchmen to allow the ship to proceed, and to stay clear of the area.

No sooner had he arrived at the south hangar that he saw it: a bronze ship slowly easing from the fiery air and coming down on the round landing platform. Vader strode along the narrow stone walkway that led to the platform, and stopped.

The ship doors opened, the rail lowered, and out walked Aiolin Astarte.


	19. Chapter 19

Here it is, the last chapter!

Thank you all for reading this story. I hope it's been a worthwhile read. :)

—

* * *

—

The young woman stepped forward. She made her way closer to the center of the platform, her brown cloak swaying over her blue tunic. She had a depleted look about her, but she stood still and straight, facing the Dark Lord from several feet away. Her arm hung at her side, bearing the stubbed wrist, the result of the hand Vader had sliced off. Her face held no emotion.

"I have him," Aiolin said, her voice solemn and mild, almost serene. "I have your son, Lord Vader."

Vader surveyed her, but he was barely registering her words. He looked at the bronze ship behind her as if spellbound. He took a step forward, ready to summon the Force. To shove her off the platform—

Aiolin lifted her blond head, her eyes suddenly livid. "Take one more step, make _any_ move — and he _dies."_ She lifted her sole hand, in which she held a thermal detonator. Her thumb pressed the top button, holding it down. It sounded and blinked.

Vader halted.

"He's on the ship," the girl said in haste, gesturing at the vessel as it was releasing shots of steam. "Surely you can feel him... My brother is there as well. They're both weak, but both alive. For now."

Again the Dark Lord looked at the ship, drawn to it, to that bright presence inside. Undeniably his son's. He had sensed it before the ship had landed. The boy was unconscious, he could feel, in a weak, fragile state. Another lifeform was within the ship as well, inconsequential as it lingered in the background. That could only be Morit.

Vader took his eyes off the ship and stared at the girl, processing the situation. She stood opposite of him, her light hair framing her stoic face while she kept a sturdy hold on the device. It didn't take any Force-sense to know what she was planning. He waited for her to say it.

"I've come to make a deal, Lord Vader," said Aiolin, watching him, her blue eyes shrewd and seeking, her stance primed for any sudden movements.

Vader regarded the detonator. Under his cape, he made the slightest movement of a finger, reaching out to the Force yet again, ready to wrench the device out of her hand—

"My brother has another. He'll know if I've failed and set off his own." Aiolin made an impassive blink. "Skywalker will die."

Vader broke the attempt with the Force, incredulous at the impulsive threat, but he inhaled calmly and rumbled, "As will your brother."

"Yes. We both lose something, unless you listen. Do I have your attention now, Lord Vader?"

Vader glared behind his mask. For hours he had been trying to track down information about Cylo, about that ship, any threads that could lead to the boy. Now it had all spilled onto him in an instant, his efforts wasted, and all because of the loathsome twins... He had suspected that they had been on that bronze shuttle that took the boy, but he had not expected this.

Those events had weighed on his mind since they happened. He had _let_ them happen, let himself be stalled by Cylo and his baiting words, and when he had gone to rescue the boy... he had let him go. He had had no choice. The boy had been too close to death. It was either let him be taken, or let him die.

Now Cylo's pawns were _here_ , holding his son hostage... It was ludicrous. Instead of fleeing for their lives, giving the boy to Imperial forces, or ransoming him from afar, his son's captors had come to him. Of all the moves they could have made, they had chosen _this..._ It would've been staggering if he didn't already know how arrogant and shortsighted the Astartes were.

He continued to stare her down, waiting for her to speak, to move, but she was just as still as him. They stood adjacently, at a standstill it seemed, and Vader wanted to harness his anger into action. The situation required a certain tactfulness, but his blood was boiling. And meanwhile, the detonator kept bleeping down at a faster pace. Vader felt the rhythm in his chest race along with it.

"Say whatever you came here to say," he finally growled.

Aiolin made the slightest adjustment of her thumb on the detonator, and it paused.

"I'm making you an offer, Lord Vader... one that benefits you the most. We mean you no harm. The truth is, we have renounced Cylo. He abandoned us, and so... we have nothing. We're offering you your son, _and_ our services, and we ask for nothing more. Morit and I have agreed, and we will do your bidding should you accept it. You have the technology to fix Morit—"

"You are _deranged,"_ Vader thundered, his tolerance afire, and he lifted a fist. "You have the audacity to come here, to my world, attempting to make bargains? Do you think I will believe _any_ of your pitiful lies?"

"My brother and I could've gone to Cylo instead of coming here, Lord Vader... but we didn't."

"That means nothing to me."

"It would be far less of a risk to us—"

"I tire of your pathetic attempts to gain my trust, girl. You clearly learned nothing on Shu-Torun. _I will do nothing for you._ "

Aiolin swallowed, and she cast her gaze to the ground for a moment. Then she breathed in, as if recharging her nerve.

"Then... I can do nothing for you," she said. She hovered her thumb over the device again.

The Dark Lord did nothing, even as he felt the dark side wailing at him, avid to quench his fury. He stifled his bloodthirst, and kept his attention on the girl before him. He easily sensed a mix of fear and fearlessness in her, all while her pale face stayed masked with calm. She had intentions, he knew, ambitions... but there wasn't an absence of truth. And that made him all the more enraged.

She had come here, stupidly, blackmailing him and veiling it as an offering. After the rivalry, the mockery, the fighting, the travesties toward the Force... Coming to his domain and ransoming his son's life in exchange for her worthless brother... He could not have imagined the depth of the child's foolishness.

And yet that foolishness was the danger now. He could feel that she would do it, should he refuse. The twins knew they had something he wanted, and they _would_ sacrifice themselves to take it from him, just to rob him of something, just to have that one victory over him.

The boy was _here,_ wounded and weak, but he was alive. He was so close... Everything he wanted was so close to becoming a reality...

The detonator was bleeping, quicker, closer to activation.

Vader remained silent, burning with doubt, with misgivings — but he looked outward from himself. He read the girl, who was clamoring for his acquiescence, and he knew she was filled with even more anxiety as these seconds ticked down. As her 'offer' was getting closer to collapsing.

So he stood his ground. He waited.

The girl's stoic expression slowly turned into a light frown. She was getting more unnerved now. Impatient. She took a step forward.

"Let us prove ourselves to you, Lord Vader," she said promptly. "There's still one left, isn't there? One Cylo. You wish to find him. We could tell you where to look. We know his hideouts."

If that didn't reek of desperation, nothing did. Vader lifted his helmeted head in consideration, deliberately stalling.

"Yes, we would do that for you. No tricks, just results." Aiolin peered at him. "You can feel what I say is true... What have you to _fear,_ Lord Vader?"

Silence fell. The dead air was heavy, only imposed by the Dark Lord's mechanical hiss and the soft sound of lava rushing and stewing below.

Then Vader rose up a hand. "Very well."

The girl's eyes lit up. She looked at him, her face blank, as if she was too baffled to speak.

Vader continued. "You have brought the boy to me. You have proven you are willing to do my bidding. I felt it on Shu-Torun, but I see it in action now. Serve me, and you both shall live. But should either of you think to betray me... you will die well before you are able."

Aiolin's loose face tightened back to attention. She compressed her lips, her shoulders tensing. Her eyes darted as if she struggled to find words.

"You..." Her tone was low-pitched, almost a whisper. "You would give us your word?"

Vader made a slow nod. He inclined his helmeted head. "I swear it."

Aiolin breathed in. She nodded. She lowered her hand, pressed the button, but kept her fingers curled around the explosive.

Vader watched her for a moment. Then he looked away, and his gaze settled on the ship. He took a step forward to it.

"Time is short," he said. "Bring them both out here. I will inform the medical facility."

Aiolin caught her breath and made a stiff bow at him. She hurried away and ascended up the rail. In a few moments she returned, pulling the edge of a repulsorlift stretcher. Morit lay on it, one-armed and legless, his flesh and circuits broken and burnt from the lightsaber cuts he'd endured. His eyes flared as he caught Vader's gaze. His one remaining blackened hand clutched his own detonator.

Aiolin settled him, and quickly went back up the rail. She returned, but this time there was no stretcher. She carried in her own arms the wounded, white-armored body of his son. His face was swollen and pale, with an oxygen mask over his mouth, and dry blood set on the plates of his injured arm. His legs dangled as she carried him, no doubt having little difficulty in doing so thanks to her cybernetic strength.

"I only had one carrier... Morit needed it the most," Aiolin said as she came to him. She looked at Vader, as if waiting to be excused for the boy's state.

"I see," he responded, staring at the boy in her arms.

Then he glanced at her hand that had been gripping the detonator — now free of it, instead supporting the boy's neck — he motionlessly glanced at Morit a few feet away, who kept the other device in a ready, weak hold.

The dark side billowed around him, clawing at his senses, and Vader murmured, "Well done."

And with that, he tore the boy from her with the Force, lifting him high up in the air, out of her reach. Aiolin blinked and glared, then was sent back as if by a blast of air. She crashed into her brother, who toppled out of the floating carrier before he could react, plopping on his back. Vader twisted his hand, and in seconds the twins were lifted, facing each other as they grunted in confusion and pain. Their heads bashed into each other, and they fell.

Several feet away from them, the shuttle suddenly inched out from the center of the platform, the legs screeching against the metal surface. Then in a sudden motion, the entire vessel was raised, kept aloft in the air. With a push from the Force, Vader sent the bronze craft off the edge and down the underside, into the burning depths below.

Waves of lava rose like giant wings, and an explosion of flames erupted as the ship was absorbed. Light flashed over the platform. Ash and rock fell around the bodies of the two twins.

The Dark Lord turned from the sight of it all. He made a pulling gesture. The stretcher swept to him. He lowered the boy's body onto it.

The bright fiery light at his back, Vader marched away into his castle with his son.

—

* * *

—

 _The nebula glowed around him. Blue, green, magenta, and black._

 _Luke floated in the boundless void. Nothing was before him, nothing but the colorful darkness and the inescapable mass of space. His breath was gone, he felt he was shrinking in the void like a piece of debris. He could do nothing but let the volume of darkness take him. He waited, helplessly, for his life to end._

 _But something appeared, far away and below. A black form stood, looking like a ghost, like a red-eyed, living shadow. Stricken, Luke reached out for it, burning with_ _the hope to live._

 _His father waited for him. He had come for him. He had come..._

 _The black leather hand was held out..._

 _He was so close to grasping it..._

 _And then it changed. It became like a talon, curling, sprawling out... and then Luke was flung away._

 _The hues of the nebula spun around him. The Dark Lord stood motionless, overseeing Luke as he drifted away towards his death._

Luke awoke.

He sat upright. Things moved before his eyes in a shapeless cascade, reeling as if at high-speed. Goosebumps rose on his sweat-soaked skin. He inhaled, and relished the feel of air pulsing in his lungs...

He wasn't dead. He had survived. Somehow he had survived...

He shut his eyes, opened them again, and things came into focus. He was sitting in a medical bed. He looked himself over and tugged on his clothes. He was in the thin black shirt and brown pants he had worn under his stormtrooper armor and bodysuit. He wriggled his bare toes on the matted bed.

He saw large pink scars stretched across his arm, and there was a slight tenderness as he bent his elbow, but he flexed the bicep easily, curled and uncurled his fingers. Everything felt healed. He looked the rest of himself over and noticed the signs of the blaster wounds were almost nonexistent on his shoulder, leg, and neck, with only faint burn marks left on his skin. He felt no pain. He felt light and whole, energetic even.

Luke looked around. The room was shadowy, the only light coming from some blinking monitors, and he saw a transfusion drip set up close to him. An oxygen pump sat on a counter. Perched at the side was a large bacta tub, empty, but gallons of the transparent fluid was stacked by it. Subsequently he ran a hand through his hair and felt it was slightly wet. There were the perpetual, humming reverberations from a working motor nearby.

A silent dread sunk into Luke's chest. A medical center... He saw flashes of a drill closing in on his eye, a beaming light over him, voices droning around him, conversing about how to dissect him...

But no, this place felt different from Cylo's stagnant clinic. This was not like any medical center he'd seen before. It was eerily dark and bare, the walls seemed made of stone, but the machinery that was here looked sleek and expensive.

And there was... something else here. A sharp, cold feeling. It seemed to shower over him, rush through him and under his skin — and he felt that he was only picking up an undercurrent of it. Luke couldn't help but shudder.

...How had he ended up here? He wracked his brain, trying to remember what exactly had happened before he lost consciousness... Something had struck him from behind as he had been suffocating in the vacuum of space, his insides on fire... and now here he was, healthier than he'd felt in days.

But he felt no ease. He just felt... cold.

A soft buzzing sound came from the back area, and Luke suddenly swerved his head. A couple of med-droids were there, an FX-7 and a 2-1B. The latter approached him.

"The patient is awake," the 2-1B said in a heavy monotone, lifting its claw-like hands and rotating them. "Please remain calm."

Luke slid to the edge of the bed. He stood, his legs feeling slightly unsteady as he stepped away. His voice scratched in his throat as he spoke. "Where... am I?"

"You are in the medical facility." The droid's yellow-white eyes studied him. "Please sit back down. I will examine you to check your vital signs before—"

" _What_ medical facility?" Luke pressed. "Where _exactly_ am I?"

"I'm sorry," the droid said. "Disclosure of that information is not part of my instructional programming."

Luke frowned. Wherever he was, he could feel that it wasn't a place he wanted to be. He searched the room for an exit, and spotted a door to the far side behind the stumpy FX-7, who rolled towards him, making electronic chatter. Luke backed away, slowly making his way towards the door. He kept his eyes on the two droids. The droids looked at him in remote silence.

Then the 2-1B shifted its attention and headed to the medical tables. It started putting things away. The other droid pulled the valve of a machine and started hosing down the hollow bacta tub. Luke stared.

"You're... just letting me go?"

The 2-1B's sullen-looking metal face turned to him.

"We were instructed to tend to your injuries," it stated. "I would advise a check-up before your leave as standard procedure, but our last scan proved you are sufficiently recovered. Someone will see to you shortly."

"Someone. Right." Luke sighed. "Mind telling me _who?"_

The droid walked away to a cabinet. "Disclosure of that information is not part of my instructional programming. Have a nice day."

Luke blinked, nonplussed and annoyed. The med-droids seemed to completely disregard him now, both busy floating around to spruce up the place. Luke hesitated for a second, then hurried to the door. He smacked his hand over the access panel. The door wasn't locked.

The doors parted, he went to step through, and inches in front of him was a gaunt face wrapped in a black hood. Luke immediately bounced back in alarm.

"Who — who are _you?"_ he huffed out.

A tall man stepped into the room, raising his hands as if to show he meant no harm. He had an aged, sunken face and was dressed in a dark velvety robe. He seemed apologetic as he looked at Luke.

"Forgive me," he said in a timid, prudish voice. "Unfortunate timing. My name is Vaneé. I'm here to see you off."

Luke was dumbfounded. "See me _off?"_

"Yes, yes. Rest assured, you will be free to leave this room and roam around to your heart's content. However, before you leave, I would ask that you stand still."

Luke raised an eyebrow and inched away.

"It's nothing toilsome, I assure you. I have a measure-reader here, as you can see." Vaneé brought out a small pen-sized device and pressed a button. A tiny beam of light shone from it. "I'll just need to scan you over to get your clothing size, that's all. I'm sorry to trouble you for something so trifling, but well, you require new clothing, and it's just much easier to get the right fittings when the person is standing. It won't take but a minute." Vaneé slanted his head in a submissive bow.

Luke flinched, taken aback, trying to process the man's words. First medical treatment, now _new clothes?_ What in the galaxy was happening?

"What... what _is_ all this?" he demanded, his voice jittery. "Who brought me here? Who... told you to do _any_ of this?"

Vaneé stood there. He blinked as if he hadn't heard Luke. Luke warily moved away from him, even though he felt no danger from the strange hooded man. Vaneé kept still and hunched, watching him with a kindly composure as he held the little device, as if he were waiting for a child to calm down and cooperate.

Luke glared at him. "Tell me where I am. _Now."_

Vaneé was silent.

"Are you with the Empire?" Luke shot at him.

Still the hooded man said nothing.

"I _told_ him it was not for _us_ to answer those questions," the 2-1B commented from the other side of the room, still dithering about and putting away equipment.

Luke glowered at the droid. At a loss, and knowing he'd get no answers here, he turned away, heading towards the door. It shot open and he crossed through to the other side.

"Another time, then, young master," Vaneé said pleasantly from behind him.

Luke turned around in bewilderment just as the doors slid shut on the pale, gaunt face. He paused and blinked. He backed away from the door.

 _Young master?_

His thoughts askew and his mind racing, he darted away from the metallic doors, too set on getting away to think where he was going. He looked around and saw a wide hallway of what seemed like a large, stone-made building. The signs of technology were gone, and it was even darker than the medical room, almost blindingly dark. Senselessly he found himself heading to the left.

Obsidian walls surrounded him, and his bare feet tingled over the pavement-like floor as he jogged. Meeting nothing but emptiness after a few minutes, he slowed to a mild cadence. He came into another passage that offered some light, with cylinders perched on wall sconces that glowed like faint grey candles. Flat pillars stood aside, sharp and knife-like, and he could make out simplistic carved patterns along the walls. The ceiling was pitch-black and the rib vault arches made repeated, web-like patterns ahead.

Luke felt like he was underground, treading in some kind of morbid cathedral. There was a feeling of antiquity to this place, and something was heavy in the air, something active and... aware. At times he would stop, look over his shoulder, certain that he'd heard something like a step, or a moan, or a chant. He could feel something... many things... stirring...

And that ever-present _coldness..._

A squeal broke out suddenly and echoed ahead. Luke came to a halt, his heart pounding. Quietly he searched the darkness, waiting, and feeling all the more vulnerable. He saw a small circle of light. It seemed to hover in the blackness, methodically coming closer. It then flashed... and turned from blue to red. Luke's eyes went wide.

 _"Artoo?"_

The barrel-shaped droid appeared from the shadows, rolling slowly towards him. He approached Luke and let out a gentle whistle.

"Artoo — how did — what are _you_ doing here?" Luke looked the droid over anxiously, feeling short of breath. He set a hand on the silver dome as if to confirm it was real. He wanted to smile and feel some ease at the sight of the little droid, but he felt more stupefied than anything.

"Artoo... what _happened?_ " he asked him, kneeling down to the droid. "Where are we? Do you know?"

Artoo let out an indiscernible bleep, followed by some weak chirps. His nubbed head twirled around and around. Luke gawked at him, and his face screwed in concern. He scrutinized the astromech's plated body, trying to see if there was anything on him, any sign of damage or depletion. He found nothing.

Then Artoo suddenly jerked away, his smooth dome passing under Luke's palm. Artoo slowly drifted back, retreating into the darkness. He made a beckoning bleep.

Luke watched him, his mouth agape. He furrowed his eyebrows and followed him.

"Artoo!" he called after the droid. "What's wrong with you? What's—"

They came to a cross-section, and then Luke saw something new: a vivid light that radiated from a corridor, through a series of balcony openings that came from the outside. He rushed down the corridor, Artoo trailing behind. Down the hall, Luke dashed to the first opening he saw, blinking hard as the radiance of it washed into his eyes, everything turning from dull black to a fiery glow. He dashed out onto the balcony.

Sweltering heat whipped at his face. He saw an endless sea of lava against murky mountains. Black volcanoes were trailing orange ooze and bursting with gorges of fire. The sound of it was loud and lashing even from the distance. The sky was a darkening purple, struck with several forks of lightning from a nearby storm. A foul, oily smell filled his nostrils and soaked on his tongue.

Luke turned and looked up to see the building. It was a tall black structure, less wide than he'd thought, but as ominous-looking as the interior suggested. There were pointed spires and columns, though it was too fogged to see the higher reaches above. At the side, he gripped the steel railings, leaning to see the stream of lava welling like a waterfall from a trench in the center. He could tell by the sheer length of the drop that he was several feet high.

Luke looked back out toward the land, watching the tumultuous, volcanic view, feeling lightheaded as it all swirled before him. He suddenly shuddered.

"Cold..." He inhaled as a violent gush of lava ruptured in the distance, splitting the ground and melting the surrounding rock. "It's so _cold_... How is that even possible?"

Artoo lingered with him a while, regarding him quietly as Luke continued to gaze outward. Then the droid proceeded through the shadowy hallway without him.

By the time Luke looked back inside, the little droid was gone. Hoping he hadn't gone too far, Luke pried his eyes off the outside view and hurried down the corridor. He turned a corner, and the path led to another hallway. The wall here contained many carved pillars that once again yielded to the outside and ushered in its light. One huge archway lead to a protruding stone parapet that stretched far out into the red haze like an arm.

Luke stopped in his tracks.

There standing on the ledge, looking out into the brewing fire, was Vader. He stood with his back turned, his cloaked form frozen, his bell-shaped helmet reflecting the scarlet darkness. From afar, he looked like he was made of the same dark stone as the towering building. He seemed part of it, a poised, brooding figure, a phantom of a forgotten time.

For a long moment Luke gazed at him. Comprehension fell over him, an awareness that he had only felt before, now materialized before him. He absentmindedly looked at his arm and ran his fingers over the large scars. He disregarded the feelings that kicked in, the dread, the voices in his head, the urges that told him to run. As he looked at that figure swathed in black, felt the burning cold presence that was bracing and bidding for him, he felt there was only one thing to do.

Luke stepped out onto the parapet. Even as he came out into the warm air, he could feel the coldness biting into him, crawling up his spine, yet there was also an odd tranquility to it, as if snow was softly falling as he walked. Vader remained completely still and undisturbed as he continued gazing out at the molten land, his breath thriving in its metallic hiss.

Luke took one step, another step, another. His insides were in a snarl, his nerves strumming. He kept his eyes on the Dark Lord, never blinking and hardly breathing. He came even closer.

Luke stopped, mere feet away, his shadow almost melting into Vader's. The silence endured, sharp and idle.

Then without hesitation, Luke said: "Father."

The broad form remained still for a moment, then the helmet raised. The Dark Lord slowly turned. The mask looked at Luke, the eyes like the black ruby eyes of an insect, the vented mouth like the cage of a furnace.

The Dark Lord stood opposite of him, watching the slender, unarmored, barefoot young man whose height just reached his neck. His young face was dazed with shock, drained by truth.

 _Father._ The word lingered inside Vader, foreign and uncomfortable, yet Vader let himself grasp its meaning, and he held onto the young one's presence, onto his acceptance. He remembered the promise he made to himself the moment he had learned the name Luke Skywalker, as he had stared out into the fleets and Star Destroyers clustered among the stars:

 _I have a son... He will be mine. It will_ all _be mine._

Triumph rose in him, a sense of completion, of relief, and mixed with something else, something he couldn't name. Vader stared at the young one, bereft of words, and the young one stared back, his chest rising and falling as he breathed, the sea-blue eyes searching, asking, waiting. He was distraught, Vader knew. He was eager and utterly confused.

He had so much to learn.

Vader had so much to teach.

The night was coming to a close and dawn drew near. Father and son stood there in long silence, the redness of Mustafar showering over them, the faraway storms raging on. When the morning did come and the sun rose, they were still there, and the sky was still very dark.

—

* * *

—

Continued in **Vader's Fire...**


End file.
